The Phantom of the Ring
by AphroditeLove
Summary: Phantom of the Opera x YuGiOh crossover! After his father dies, Ryou recieves the Sennen Ring and falls in love with the dark angel that houses within, but terror lies darker than the music of the night...who is the face behind the mask? Yaoi.BR, YMxR, BM
1. Guardian Angel

Yep. A Phantom of the Opera and Yugioh yaoi crossover. I swear, this is actually pretty good! I swear it! I spent all my time since Christmas tinkering things out to make it perfect!

It's not a PotO meets YGO cast thing. It's sort of the YGO cast takes the roles of certain PotO characters in the story. Such as this chapter, you can tell that Ryou is obviously in the position that Christine is in. Madame Giry's descendant is just a random character I put in there for fun, in case I ran out of filler ideas, and perhaps a descendant of Charles De Chagny might come too…XD

The PotO part is based on the musical, so you have to be really familiar with the songs to get some of the chapters. There will be eventual lime and lemon, but heck, this is more …mystery and romance than anything else, so bear with me here! (beams) Some parts are also based on Susan Kay's version of "Phantom", simply because I hate Gaston Lereaux's version. He makes Erik too insane for my liking, whereas Susan Kay actually goes into his POV and explains to us his life. (beams and huggles Erik-kun)

Okay, pairings?

Ryou x Bakura, Ryou x Yami no Malik (Marik) , Bakura x Malik and Thief Bakura x Malik. (exhales) Woo…

Oh yes, and for those of you who are anxious to know what YGO characters play what PotO characters? Well…I'm not going to tell you. XD But I CAN tell you that Weevil Underwood and Rex Raptor will…die in this fic. Yep, die. Well, sent to the shadow realm and then hanged, I don't know. XD AND PHANTOM/YGO PHFANS, THERE COULD BE A CHANDILIER DROPPING !

And I quote Erik: "Look, she's singing to bring down the chandelier! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Disclaimer: Don't' own Phantom of the Opera, don't own YGO, and don't' own PotO song lyrics.

* * *

Chapter One: Guardian Angel

Ryou POV

I used to be a fonder of tales, as was my father. He used to sit by my bed after my mother's and sister's deaths, easing me into sleep with his eager voice, illustrating his tales as an archeologist. I was fascinated by the stories he used to weave, with his voice, his hands, and his happy, caring eyes that flashed with excitement whenever I asked for more. He told me tales from the southern jungles of Africa, the upbeat tense legends from China, the gory, depressing tragic myths of Greek, to the boiling heat of Egypt, and, to our very own country: Europe.

His favourite tales had always been the same two: the legendary Opera Ghost that I later, in my early teen years, began to love more than ever, and the mystical rumors of the Millennium Items from the sands of Egypt. The Millennium Items fascinated me as much as the Opera Ghost in France. Mother, being a lovely Japanese citizen, had taught me how the Items became to be known in her hometown also, and that they were called "Sennen Items".

Indeed, I loved these tales. Loved them to every detail and researched them through my obsession. I loved them that much.

And now, I, Ryou Bakura, will tell you my own.

* * *

After my sister had died, Father began to excavate more on his journeys, leaving me quite alone. I was in my mid teens at the time, so I didn't think much of it, until it was quite too late. I remember sitting in the darkness of my room in boarding school, humming to myself as I recalled Father's wondrous tales. The Opera Ghost, the Angel of Music, the Nameless Pharaoh, the Dreaded Thief King.

I had never been much of a strong boy, in physical sense. Nor was Father, come to think of it. Our entire family was built almost the same way; thin, slender and pale. My Father told me otherwise. He told me I was strong, that I simply had too soft of a heart to see it. I suppose he may have been right; but my soft heart didn't help me when bullies constantly picked on me.

Yugi, a close, childhood friend of mine, moved in with me to boarding school when I was fifteen. Though the same age I was, he was much shorter, and had much larger eyes, and a way softer heart. This, obviously, made him a far easier target for bullies than I was, so in order to survive, both of us stuck together and never left one another's sides.

I had often wished for an Angel to come and guide me, as Father frequently narrated. I wished for an angel, any angel, light or dark, to come and protect me when in need. I was telling Yugi this one day as we were walking home, when I was about to turn seventeen. It was the weekend, and we had been allowed out in the autumn weather on visitation hours. Of course, Father wasn't there to visit from boarding school, so we had gone to see Yugi's grandfather instead. Yugi's mother had been a close friend of my mother's, and before Yugi was five, his family had moved to Britain along with me.

Yugi had persuaded me to sing for him along the way home, and I did so. He smiled pleasantly as I sang a song my father had heard in Italy, allowing my voice to trail into the dusk.

"Since you like to sing, pretty boy," snickered a voice, "better start singing for help."

Both Yugi and I whirled around instantly. A sickening feeling swept my insides towards my throat, as I gulped. Naturally…bullies.

"What…what do you want?" I asked, my voice quavering as five more shadows revealed themselves to us. We had no idea who they were; the usual bullies that tormented us were school bullies, the stereotypical ones that beat kids up for lunch money. Ironical that they were still doing it even though I was approaching seventeen.

Slowly, Yugi and I backed away from them, my friend's eyes wide and a little wary.

"What do you want from us?" Yugi asked, his violet eyes flashing. "Leave us alone!"

The tallest shadow shrugged, approaching us. The sun had finally set, leaving only darkness in its wake. I swallowed again. I didn't like the dark very much. Especially when five shadows could be seen in the dimness, obviously meaning deadly business.

"If you want our money," I said, swallowing again as I reached for my wallet, "we only have a little bit-"

"We don't want your money, punks," sneered the tallest one. Strange. That voice was familiar. "Although, it is an added bonus."

Five sparks of fire lit up in front of us, all simultaneously reaching towards their faces. There were a few breaths as each of them inhaled deeply, and as they lighted their cigarettes, the matches illuminated their features. The head of the shadows leered at me in the flash of instance. I gasped, backing up and grasping Yugi firmly. Yugi's eyes widened in fear at first, before he realized the face and gritted his teeth angrily.

"Hirutami!"

The deadly blond snickered, approaching us with his half-lidded eyes. I gave him an angry look.

"What do you want from us?" I asked, also gritting my teeth. The drifting smoke from their cigarettes floated into the night, and I could distinctly smell the strange, but rather nasty odor within them. I shuddered, wishing with all my heart that Yugi and I could just teleport in an instant.

"You're friends of Jonouchi, aren't you?" Hirutami asked, grinning wickedly, though his eyes were drooping and glazed, obviously from the drug-enhanced cigarette in his mouth. I winced, taking another step back before I bumped into someone. I whirled around, fear jostling within me as I realized that Hirutami's gang had surrounded us. Not good!

"Yes…" Yugi glared. "Leave us alone, Hirutami!"

I did not like it when I saw Hirutami's fists clench. Though casual, it was an obvious sign. And when Hirutami created violence, it wasn't good. His gang was sent to the far side youth institution for a reason. Granted, he was going to be eighteen in a few months, and I had been relieved to know that he would be sent to a proper prison for his crimes.

How had he escaped now!

Someone grabbed my arm roughly and twisted it behind my back. I cried out, my knees bucking as I heard Yugi yell my name out in worry. In another instant, someone had muffled their hands over his mouth, stifling his voice. I struggled like mad against their grip, but it was no use. I watched in fear as Hirutami approached us, absently blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth.

"Any friends of Jonouchi's," he said, smirking, "is an enemy of mine. I can't believe he's hanging out with wimps like you."

I frowned fearfully, a bead of sweat dropping from my forehead as I saw him rear back, his fist ready-

-I closed my eyes last minute and choked back a cry of pain. More fists implanted themselves in my stomach, but I determinedly held back my cries. At times like these, I wished so desperately for a guardian angel, like those my father used to speak about.

"HEY! LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

The beatings stopped, and I was dropped onto the ground. I moaned, seething as I felt my entire torso badly bruised. Weakly, I turned my head around, and saw Yugi lying on the ground. Someone grabbed both of our collars and threw us towards the side. I whimpered as my body was thrown carelessly into an alley wall, before I heard a concerned voice.

"Oy, sorry about that," said the voice apologetically. I looked up and gasped.

"Honda?"

"Stay here," Honda said, smiling. "I'm going to go help Jonouchi." With that, he shot his friend a dubious grin and ran into battle, whooping at the top of his lungs. Weakly I pulled myself toward Yugi, and examined him closely.

"You okay?" I asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Yugi assured, wincing as he felt his bruises. "You?"

I sighed, hanging my head. "This hasn't been my best day…"

Yugi nodded understandingly. Ironically, I was picked on more often than Yugi, though I wasn't sure why. Probably because of how I looked. Many bullies picked on me more out of vengeance than anything else. I blushed at this thought. I didn't WANT those girls to be chasing me, did they think I didn't have anything else better to do!

I wailed silently in my mind, closing my eyes. Yugi nudged me in the shoulder, gesturing me to watch.

"Look," he whispered. "Jonouchi's got Hirutami!"

Blinking my eyes open wide, I quickly reverted my gaze to the frantic battle. Indeed, Jonouchi had gotten Hirutami, and quite badly too. I smiled inwardly to myself, proud at my friend and thankful to both of them for saving us. Hirutami would have to think twice about trying to get Jonouchi back into his gang again.

"Get lost, Hirutami!" yelled Jonouchi triumphantly as he rammed his fist against the other blond's mouth. "I'm not your second in command anymore! NOW GET LOST!" Grinning broadly, Jonouchi slammed his foot into his former leader's stomach, toppling him off the sidewalk and into a lamppost. Ouch.

Growling and nursing his bruised and bleeding face, Hirutami quickly scrambled up, stared at his unconscious members before pelting off into the darkness. Grinning broadly and letting out a triumphant whoop, Jonouchi punched the air with his fist, before exchanging a high five with a rather exhausted, but pleased looking Honda. Both of them looked towards us, and helped us up.

"You okay?" Jonouchi asked me, noticing that I was wincing. I nodded, smiling up at both of them.

"Thanks," I said. At times I felt very imposing upon both of them; if only I were stronger, like them, I wouldn't need them to waste their time protecting me. Sighing, I shook it off. My head was bombarding with a heavy headache, and I was feeling downer than usual.

"Come on, let's get back," Yugi piped up. "Thanks, Honda, Jonouchi."

"No problem," Honda grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked up at the dead black sky. "You know we're late now, you know? They've probably closed the gates."

"What?" My eyes widened. "Oh no….!" I wailed. "They're going to kill us…we won't get back in…"

"Calm down, Ryou-kun," Jonouchi laughed, patting my back. He gave me a sly smirk. "Honda and I know the way in from anywhere, don't we, Honda?"

"Of course," Honda smirked, folding his arms over his chest smugly. "Don't worry yourself, Ryou-kun. We can even climb up the walls to your dormitory!" I paled.

"What!"

All three of them laughed. "Come on, Ryou-kun," laughed Honda. "We're only joking!"

"It's possible though," Jonouchi said thoughtfully. "We could. There's a fire escape right there…you could sneak in and no one would know that you were out late!"

"Jonouchi…" I moaned, nursing my head. "Maybe not now…" I said weakly.

Laughing, both of them wrapped their arms around my shoulders in a brotherly manner; Jonouchi's other arm around Yugi's. The four of us walked in snickering silence until we had reached our dormitory. The lights were off except for a few, casting a rather deadened, melancholy look upon the gates. I shuddered. A sense of foreboding shivered through my senses, and I wasn't quite sure why. At any rate, the rare rays of the light swept across the lawn dimly, casting eerily shadows. The gates themselves looked like cold, cruel bars of imprisonment. I shuddered again.

"Cold, Ryou?" Jonouchi asked, raising an eyebrow. I shook my head.

"No, Jonouchi…" I said softly.

A shadow awaited us by the gates and as we approached, the cold metal bars opened. Both Honda and Jonouchi gave the shadow wide, innocent grins as I sheepishly stepped behind them.

"Bonjour, Madame Giry," greeted Jonouchi in his terrible French. Madame Giry was our French and choir teacher, and was supposedly of a quite wondrous ancestry. When I was younger, I couldn't help but link her to the story of the infamous Opera Ghost and Angel of Music, but I had learned in my later years that there were numerous numbers of 'Giry's all over France.

Madame Giry, young, happy, with glittering green eyes and golden bangs and hair that reached to her waist, was normally bouncy and happy, and lenient. If you were caught outside bounds at any time, Madame Giry was your hope for the most merciful punishment. Not that detentions were considered punishments, anyways.

However, Margaretta Giry, normally optimistic and excited, looked rather pale and sick as we approached her. I knitted my eyebrows in concern. "Madame Giry?"  
Hands shaking, she gestured for us to go inside. In one of her hands was a letter.

"Is something wrong, Madame Giry?" I asked again.

All four of us noticed, once we got inside, just how shaken and depressed she looked. She was holding a letter and a package, both of them shaking in her grasp.

"Umn…let me guess," Jonouchi said, attempting to cheer her up with a joke, "it's the letter from…from…" he gave me a look.

"…the O.G," I whispered, but gave him a sad look. "Not now, Jonouchi."

Jonouchi's face faltered, and he began to look more seriously towards Madame Giry. "Ms. Giry? Is something wrong?"

Our dorm supervisor bowed her head, looking sadly upon the ground. She reached the package towards me, and I could immediately feel something was wrong. Something very wrong.

"Madame Giry?" I tried again, voice breaking slightly. "What's wrong? Please tell me."

"Open…open the letter," she sighed sadly. "Here, Monsieur Bakura. Open the letter." She handed it to me, and I noticed the plain, simple text script. Hastily I opened the letter, and read it. When I had finished, I couldn't react properly. I was in shock. This couldn't have happened! First my mother, then Amane, now…

"Ryou?" Yugi asked, concerned. He tugged at my sleeves. "Ryou? Are you okay? You're so pale…"

Swallowing, I read the letter again, hoping with all my heart that it was a dream. A terrible dream that I would awaken from, and possibly run back to my father's arms, begging him in tears to tell me another story. Another story to chase away the big bad monsters in my dream.

No. I wasn't wrong. And that made it all the worse to bear.

My father was dead.

Hours had passed, and I was sitting alone in my dormitory room, running my fingers lightly over the package that was sent by the government. I was still in utter dumb shock, still couldn't believe that my father was now dead, and that I was an orphan. Thank goodness for the boarding school…

…but my father…

Tears began to roll down my cheeks. My father! He…he had always been my comfort. When mother died and Amane died too, Father had kept by my bedside, singing to me, telling me stories from his adventures. How could I finally come to realize that he could no longer do it again?

I closed my eyes, squeezing tears down my cheeks. No! This couldn't be! It just couldn't! Why hadn't Father been more careful! Why hadn't he! I had never believed in the curses of the ancient Egyptian tombs - were they real? Was that why he died? A tomb had collapsed on his entire team of archeologist…had it been cursed?

Swallowing for breath, I fingered the package. On it, was my father's familiar scrawl, all messy and desert-worn from his travels. He used to scrawl all over the brown paper; jokes and reminisces and messy doodles from his discoveries. This was no different.

_Hello, my son! Egypt is finally so promising. We have finally discovered what could be the tomb to the ancient Nameless Pharaoh! Just like I told you when you were younger! Do you remember? You used to love that story so much, my son. And now look…I promised you, didn't I? Oh, if only you were here, if only you had stayed with me here… I remembered how you loved Egypt when you came to visit. How many years ago was it now? Five? Six? I can't remember. But, oh God, how I know you would love to be here with me, looking at the hieroglyphics, the pictures, everything! _

_You must think me mad, Ryou! But no, look! I do not lie! Here I send you a gift from the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb! Originally, there were seven of the Millennium Items, but quite a lot of them were stolen as we were traveling to the port of Alexandria. But no matter! You have a piece of your favorite myth now, to call reality! However, I do suppose meeting that Ishtal boy a few years ago was quite real also…but no matter! _

_Open the package and see my present for you, my son! I know you had always been fascinated with the Ring. And don't think I've forgotten about your other friends! I'm sure your mother would've wanted Yugi to have the other treasure I enclosed. I think he would be most pleased to have it too…that is, if he can solve it first. I know he had always been quite the game-master!_

_I love you, son. Take care, eat well, get good grades. I'm very proud of your work so far this year, Ryou. You make a father feel very proud to have such a strong, softhearted son like you. And remember, when things look glum, your guardian angel will come to you and sing you to sleep. Especially if I'm not there. _

_Take care, little Ryou._

_-All my love, you father._

I sniffled. My father really was gone now. Any there was no one to comfort me and sing to me to ease my pain. At least I would always have this piece of treasure to remember him by…

Carefully, wiping away my tears, I ran my nail down the side of the wrappings, ripping it neatly. I did not want to tear apart the last letter of love my father had sent to me. It would hurt too much to bear.

The wrappings fell away, and I opened the box. Momentarily I stopped crying, too captured in awe by what I saw.

Settling among soft tissues, were two golden objects, each bound with a length of old rope. Breathlessly, I fingered the pendants; one was a bulky, half-finished triangular prism, its remains scattered next to it, awaiting to be completed. The other had been my childhood favourite…smooth and round, with five, gleaming spikes hanging off the circle, and an Eye of Ra in the middle…

…I didn't even know they were real!

The Millennium Ring and the Millennium Puzzle!

Weakly, fingers trembling, I reached for the Ring. It felt cool and smooth against my grasp, and I lowered it over my head. The pendant lay upon my chest, glittering peacefully in the dimness of my room.

"Oh father…thank you…"

Tears began to shed themselves again, as I hugged the Item to myself. My father…he always knew what to get me to make me happy. Oh, why had he gone? In the darkness, I could almost hear his loud, excited voice, rambling on his tales, his soft, musical voice that my mother had taught him, and his talented fingers dancing across a violin. I couldn't believe that it was all gone now.

"Father," I choked out, tears streaming my face. "Why? Why! Why did you have to go, why! I miss you so much, I didn't see you for so long, I miss you already! Why did you have to go!"

I sobbed, hugging my knees to my chest as I wrapped my arms tighter around the Item, my only remaining reminder of my father.

"Dad," I cried. "Daddy…why did you have to go? You were right, the Items were real…but how come my angel isn't? Father! Why did you go? I'm so alone! I'm so alone!"

I sobbed uncontrollably into his knees, my cracked cries echoing in the night. My entire frame shuddered, quivered at the force of my sobs.

I didn't know how long I sat there, bawling my heart out. All I knew was eventually, in the darkest hour of the night…I heard a voice.

At first it was soft and gradual, quiet and hesitant. I weakly looked up, a little fearful at the sound, but at my hesitance, the voice grew louder. I blinked, my crying momentarily ceasing as I stared at my surroundings. Strangely enough, the voice sounded as though it were echoing in the very room…as though a spirit had appeared in the middle of the dwelling, singing softly.

It was a low voice. A calming low voice, that gradually grew louder, its notes soft and relaxing, coaxing me stop crying. I blinked again. Where was that voice coming from?

It didn't matter. All I knew was that it was as calming and as easing as my father's voice was when I was younger. It continued to sing, non-stop, even as I felt coaxed to lie down on my bed.

Was it…was it …my guardian angel?

My father had been right about the Ring and the Puzzle…was he also right about my guardian angel?

Quietly, the angel continued to sing to me. I felt my sobs cease, my eyelids drooping as I struggled to stay awake, to wait for it to finish so I could ask it its name…but it continued to sing, its echoing tremor of relaxation pleading for me to sleep, to stop crying.

Eventually I fell asleep. I could almost even feel the angel's fingertips brushing away my tears when I did. I fell into slumber, the Ring upon the pillow beside my face, as the angel continued to sing.

Then…all was silent.

* * *

Umn, yeah, Hirutami is also techinically a YGO character. He's in the very early manga and Jonouchi and Honda used to be in his gang before they went all good. Yugi and Jonouchi had ...two encounters with them, both of htem in attempts to make Jonouchi their gang member agian. So yeah. (beams) READ AND REVIEW, PLLLEEEAAASSEEE!


	2. Little Ryou

Yeah, a quick update. I'm going to be very busy these next few weeks, so don't expect too many updates. I have...two other stories to update on my other account. So bear with me.

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW THIS FIC, PLEASE!

Disclaimer: Don't own YGO, Phantom of the Opera, Phantom of the Opera lyrics, or even the "Little Ryou" thing at the end. That's based on "Little Lotte". O.o See what I meant by you guys needed to know the music very well?

* * *

Chapter Two 

Ryou POV

Weeks passed. I missed my father terribly.

But…it was easing, more comforting…to have my angel sing to me at night. At first I had thought the voice to be a fluke, a hallucination, a desperate slip of insanity that was created from the news of my father's death. But as time wore on, I had begun to realize that, no, it wasn't a fable, a fluke. There truly was an angel…though where, I did not know. I never took the Millennium Ring off, and every night when I went to bed, at the darkest hour of the night, when not even the moon rose, the angel would sing to me.

He never spoke, my angel. Never. Just merely sang in my ear, and at times I could even feel his fingers wiping away my tears. They were only fleeting moments, ready to be reconsidered and shaken off, but I knew they were real. My father was right about the Sennen Items to be real; who had the right to say that my guardian angel wasn't?

Of course, my father had to pay a price to discover the Sennen Items. Who else would have to die, to discover that my own guardian angel did exist? Not wishing to risk it, I did not dare to say a word to anyone. Not even to Yugi.

As expected, Yugi proved to be, once again, the amazing game master he was, and competed the rest of the Puzzle within a day. He had looked up at me with tears in his eyes when he had finished. He promised that he too, would wear his Puzzle until the end of his life, in memory of my father.

I did not dare tell him the possibility that the Puzzle had the spirit of an ancient pharaoh housing within. For one, he would've most probably ridicule me, and I would have to explain as to why I came up with such a imaginative theory, and I didn't want that. After all, my guardian angel was an angel, was he not? His voice seemed far too kind to be that of an ancient Thief King. Therefore, I did not think that the angel was a spirit, but rather, indeed, a true holy being, sent to comfort me by my father in Heaven.

About a month later, Yugi had also received devastating news. His father had been found, after disappearing for years already, since Yugi was small-dead.

By that time, I had already begun to cheer up a bit, having my angel's voice to comfort me when I was asleep. Yugi, however, had no such luck, and I spent my wee hours telling him tales my father used to tell me.

"…the ancient pharaoh then defeated the terrible Thief King," I whispered dramatically, trying my best to hold back my tears. Retelling the tale reminded me of my father again. "…and sealed the Thief King away with all the Shadow magic there was in the world. However, the brave and noble pharaoh knew that he too, would have to stop the magic from reoccurring again in the future. So he sealed himself away in the darkness, awaiting the future so he could be released again." I sat back, breathless, as I watched Yugi give me a small smile of awe.

"How do you know all this, Ryou-kun?" Yugi asked. I was happy to see that Yugi did not look as gloomy anymore.

"I was in Egypt when I was ten or so," I explained. "Father was showing me all the tombs and treasures he had found, and I accidentally found a cellar door, hidden beneath the sands."

"And what was in there?" Yugi urged, eyes widening. I smiled again.

"A boy," I said. "His family was living in a palace underneath the ground!"

"You're kidding me," Yugi breathed. "You're kidding me, Ryou! But, those stories can't be real."

I shrugged. "Well, my father had discovered the Sennen Ring and Puzzle. Maybe there are some things in the world that seem like fables, but really are real. Perhaps we're just too afraid to see them."

"I'm not afraid!" Yugi exclaimed eagerly. "I would love to see the spirit of the Pharaoh!"

I smiled. "So would I."

* * *

Finally, about two months later, both Yugi and I had finally gotten over our depression. I would never have made such quick progress, had not I had the angel to sing to me at night. And knowing that it was my father who sent him, made it all the more bearable to realize that Father, at least, was in a better place. Probably with my mother and sister. Yugi had told me simply; that he had never really knew his father anyways. It wasn't too hard to let him go. 

Yugi and I were gathering our lunch at school, with me humming under my breath and Yugi jumping up and down to get a good look at the menu. When we had managed to gather all our food, we wandered to a table, trays balancing precariously in our arms.

We sat down, ready to gorge into our food, but not before Jonouchi, Honda, and Yugi's own childhood best friend, Anzu, had appeared by our sides. Jonouchi slapped me playfully in the shoulder, before sitting beside Yugi's left. Honda sat across from us, and Anzu sat next to him, smiling friendly.

"Hey, Ryou," Anzu greeted, beaming. "How's everything going?"

I looked down at my plate, smiling a small smile. "Fine, thanks," I said softly.

"Sorry about your dad," Anzu said, nodding seriously. I looked back up, and gave her a sadder smile in return.

"It's fine. Really."

Anzu nodded, before picking daintily at her food. Trying to break the awkward silence, Honda suddenly exclaimed, "Hey, have you heard the news?"

"What news?" Yugi asked, intrigued.

"You mean you read the news, Honda?" exclaimed Jonouchi, feigning utter shock and surprise. I giggled. "I never knew!"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up," Honda sneered, smirking, punching Jonouchi in the arm. "Actually, I heard the news."

"Thought so," Jonouchi said triumphantly, nodding. "Knew you didn't have enough brain cells to read the news, Honda."

"Watch it," grinned Honda. He wavered a carton of milk in front of Jonouchi's face. "Or I'll spill this over your head."

"Like to see you try!" Jonouchi laughed, pouncing up.

"Hey!" Yugi protested, laughing as he and I hurried to hold Jonouchi back. "You haven't told us the news yet, Honda!"

Giving Jonouchi a challenging smirk, Honda sat back down, wolfing his food into his mouth.

"Ew, Honda," Anzu complained, wincing in disgust. "Learn some etiquette, will you?"

"Sorry," Honda said, swallowing one huge gulp. He sighed in comfort, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Madame Giry said we're doing a play this year."

"A play?" Yugi cocked an eyebrow. "We do a play every year."

"Yes," I said. "What makes this so different?"

Honda gave me a smile. "I'll give you three guesses which play it is."

I furrowed my brows as Jonouchi snickered.

"You can't even _count _to three, Honda."

"What is it?" Yugi asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Guess," Honda said again.

"Oh, come on!" Yugi exclaimed. "Just tell us!"

Jonouchi flashed a grin at me. "Phantom of the Opera."

My mouth literally dropped. Not possible. Our school was doing a musical? My favourite one at that?

"Do you even know what the story is about, Jonouchi?" asked Anzu wryly.

"NOPE, not a clue," Jonouchi said. "But I'm sure Ryou here could tell us. Right?"

Everyone swiveled around to see me. I could literally feel my cheeks getting hotter, my nose getting pinker.

"Ahh…"

"Come on, Ryou-kun!" Anzu chirruped happily. "Madame Giry has already told us what's it roughly going to be about…but come on now! You're the one who has the most details about this! Tell us!"

"Eh, I really don't need to hear," said Jonouchi, leaning back. "Romantic stuff…yech."

"It's not just the romance," I explained, unable to contain myself. Blushing, I looked down at my plate, poking at it, before I continued. Now that I had spoken, I had to go on. "It's really about…the Opera Populaire. It's a prominent Opera House in France, and it's been haunted for years."

"The O.G!" Jonouchi yelled.

"Sweet, a ghost?" Honda said, eyes wide with anticipation. "Like, a headless one?"

"This is not the story of Sleepy Hollow, Honda," Anzu said exasperatedly. "The Opera Ghost sings."

"Sings?" Honda repeated, wrinkling his nose. "What fun is that?"

"He doesn't just sing," I explain. "He has the most gruesome and terrifying face that even his own mother and father casted him away when he was born. Some say that he was born with terrible disfiguration and drove his mother insane. Others said he lead a decent childhood until someone spilled gasoline on half is face and lit up with a match."

"Ew…" Yugi shuddered. "What does his face actually _look _like, Ryou-kun?"

"A Death's Head," I whispered, caught up with retelling my tale. "A death's head. A dead skull, with holes where the nose was supposed to be, and golden eyes so sunken in that you could only see it in the dark. His skin was a parchment yellow and was just as brittle. His entire frame was a skeleton!"

"Ew…" all three of them said in disgusted awe.

"But why would anyone fall in love with him?" Jonouchi asked. "Or is it like…a reverse psychology thing?"

"I can't believe you even know that word," Anzu joked. Jonouchi flashed her a grin.

"No." I shook my head. "He has a beautiful voice, such a beautiful singing voice that it sounds even more heavenly than the most talented of choir angels. His mind is quick and creative, and highly intelligent. He can compose fantastic operas within a day, and built miraculous buildings within a month."

"Really?" Anzu asked, a little skeptically. "Such a genius with such a hideous face? So what did the girl do? Christine, right?"

"Yes," I nodded again. "Christine Daae fell in love with his voice, as he did her. However, when she first came to the Opera Populair, everyone thought her to be …a toad, really. Someone who couldn't sing very well. So then, the Phantom began to haunt her room through her dressing gown mirror-"

At this, Anzu gave a wrinkled snort. She would never have anyone live should they be spying through _her _mirror. I continued.

"-and began to teach her how to sing. However, in payment for her singing, she had to be loyal to him. She couldn't fraternize with other men. But it didn't matter to Christine Daae, for she loved the Phantom like a father, a friend, a companion. That is…" I put on a smile, for suspense effect, "…until her childhood lover came back…the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny!"

"So what did the Phantom do?" asked Yugi, eyes wide. I looked around, and indeed, my small audience was entirely enraptured by my tale. I smiled again, more brightly as I continued.

"Threatened Christine not to see him again," I said. "That night, he brought her to his underground lair, beneath the Opera house on a lake, that he had made entirely himself!"

All three of them were gaping. Quickly, I hurried to finish my tale.

"-and the Phantom kills again, and again, and he was ready to kill Raoul. He told Christine to either chose him or Raoul. Should she chose Raoul, he would die. Should she chose the Phantom, Raoul would live."

"Go on!" whispered Yugi.

"So Christine chose the Phantom," I concluded. "And being so touched by her judgment, the Phantom sent them on their way, and …" I smiled. "…disappeared."

The three of them were utterly in awe. Suddenly, Anzu recoiled back, shaking her head.

"Euch. I'm not going to audition for Christine anymore."

"Heh," Jonouchi shrugged. "I think I might try out. Sword fighting, yeah!"

"The Phantom's disgusting," Honda said, still in disbelief. "I mean, I've heard of obsession, but that's…just…not nice!"

"The Phantom does frighten me," Yugi admitted, shaking his head. "But I love the tale!"

"The Phantom didn't deserve Christine's love," Anzu said simply. "I mean, she was in love with Raoul. If the Phantom really loved her that much, why didn't he just let her go?"

I sighed, looking down at my plate. I knew exactly what was my opinion of the Phantom, and I knew I was going to get appalled looks for it. Expectedly, Anzu turned to me.

"Don't you agree, Ryou-kun?"

I tilted my head a bit, in a sort of, reconsidering manner, before I looked back up.

"Well…when she left," I said softly. "The Phantom sang a very sad version of a song that was supposed to be very happy. You know there was supposed to be a Masquerade, a happy ball where everyone dressed up and hid themselves behind a mask?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well…" I shifted uncomfortably. "He sang it…sort of …really sad…"

"Sing it!" Yugi said immediately. "Please, Ryou-kun, sing it please!" I used to sing a lot to Yugi when I was younger, and he always liked hearing my voice, even though I always thought it was ludicrous.

"Yeah! Sing it!" everyone else urged. I shifted comfortably again.

"You'll hear it later, right?" I blushed.

"But we want to hear it now!" Jonouchi whined. I sighed, then directed my gaze to the table again, my cheeks flushing.

_"Masquerade…paper faces on parade, Masquerade. _

_Hide your face so the world would never find you…"_

I looked up, tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. It had always been the saddest part of the entire play. No matter how many times I heard it, I cried. "Erik never had anyone to love, or to love him back. Christine was the first. And to let go of something everyone always had, when he had nothing, was just too much to bear for him. He didn't deserve all that he had to go through, just because of his face."

There was a small silence, as everyone drank in these words. Until Yugi spoke up, that is.

"You mean like the Thief King, Ryou-kun?" he asked. "I remember you told me that we shouldn't hate the Thief King either, because it wasn't his fault that he went all bad. He had a bad childhood, just like Erik, right?"

I nodded. "Right."

There was a small silence again, and I could tell that they weren't about to agree with me any time soon.

"Ryou," Anzu piped up suddenly, "why don't _you_ audition? You can really sing! And I don't think anyone else really wants to do the Phantom."

I blinked repeatedly, ready to jump away. "What?" I stuttered.

"Yeah!" Jonouchi agreed. "You can do it. You can play the part of Phantom."

"What? N-no…" I said weakly, blush tinting my face again. "I don't think I'll ever have the courage to stand up there and sing…"

"Your classmates are right," said a voice. They all turned around to see Madame Giry standing behind them, a small smile on her face.

"Zat was a wonderful retelling of the Phantom's story, Monsieur Bakura," she beamed. "And indeed, you should ought to play ze of ze Phantom. All you need is a little confidence."

"I can't…" I stuttered, ready to swear that my cheeks had turned beet red. Madame Giry had heard? Oh my…

"But you 'ave such a lovely singing voice!" Madame Giry pressed. "I remember my own mother telling me how Meg Giry was so surprised to see Mademoiselle Daae sing so lovely. All she needed was a little lesson and she was a success."

"But…I don't think I can…" I said weakly. "I'm sorry, Madame Giry, but…I'm too shy. I don't think I can ever go on stage." I looked back onto the floor shamefully. Everyone looked so disappointed. "I'm sorry."

Madame Giry placed her hand underneath my chin and reverted my gaze to her face. She gave me a sad smile.

"I was 'oping you'd make your father proud, Monsieur," she said. "'E would love to see you upon the stage with one of 'is favourite tales."

Immediately, I felt extremely guilty. My father would've been glad to see me on stage, but I never dared to go anywhere than included everyone staring at me.

Madame Giry smiled again. "Come, Monsieur Bakura. I want you show you something."

Quickly, she grasped my hand and pulled me away from my food. I sent Yugi and the gang desperate looks that silently wailed, 'Help me!' before Madame Giry quickly disappeared with me. She led me from hallway to hallway, from corridor to corridor, until we had reached the eastern part of the building. She threw open the golden oak doors to the auditorium and hurried me in.

I gasped audibly. The entire auditorium was a deep, wine red of colour, its seats and its walls all reflecting every shade. However, what got my attention was the breathtaking chandelier that was hanging precariously on the ceiling. Many people were screaming and shouting commands, and a couple were heaving it into the air.

"Madame Giry…" I whispered, "we're really going to play the Phantom of the Opera here?"

"Yes," Madame Giry smiled. "We are. Quickly, Monsieur Bakura. Come with me. I 'ave something else to show you."

She grabbed my wrist again, and led me away. We went down corridor after corridor again, and down circular stairs. Finally, we reached into a lobby of marble and gold. I recognized it as the boarding school's museum. Technically, we students weren't allowed in it unless it was for research issues, and even then, we needed teacher supervision. Our boarding school was located in a neighborhood that was very tight on heritage. This area was known to have ancient treasures and other past activities. Heck, we still even had horses occasionally pulling carriages to the school for special occasions. Father knew I would be happy in a place like this.

"Um…Madame Giry?" I asked tentatively.

"'Ush," she whispered eagerly. "Come, Monsieur Bakura. Inside."

She quickly opened the doors and ushered me in. Once again, my mouth fell at the sight before me.

Golden artifacts surrounded us on every wall. Papyrus samples hung on the walls, weaponry strapped under display cases. Tombs, coffins, painted with dark kohl lines and decorated with mounds of jewelry glittered about us. Hieroglyphics were etched into the walls themselves.

An Egyptian exhibit.

"Madame Giry…what is all this?" I whispered. I stepped forward; my fingers brushing delicately pass a glass display case. Beneath it, a mummy's tomb, with sculpted holes to fit other treasures. I peered down more quizzically upon it…one of the slots looked like my Millennium Ring! Was this…was this from the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb?

"Your father gave it all to us," Madame Giry explained softly. "This entire exhibit was a gift from him."

I blinked, whirling around.

"He…he did?"

"Yes," Madame Giry nodded. "Some of the treasures are missing though. But it's not of any matter, really. We have so much now, because of him." Her eyes glittered. "Can't you do this, just for him?"

Swallowing, I turned back to the display case, my fingers itching to feel the Egyptian coffin beneath me. Tears threatened at the corner of my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Madame Giry…" I whispered. "I can't."

* * *

Since Madame Giry permitted me to explore the entire exhibit (in silence), I had returned to my room quite late. Everyone was already dead asleep in their own rooms of the dormitory, and as I changed into my pajamas, I couldn't help but think of Madame Giry's words. 

I didn't have enough guts to perform on stage. I was far too shy. As much as I wanted to do this for my father, I couldn't …I didn't have enough courage to actually even make it to the auditions.

My heart sank. I so desperately wanted to please my father, but it was so hard! I wanted to audition, to play in the play in memory of him, but I didn't have the nerve! Why was I so utterly weak?

I sat back on my bed, groaning, running various methods to get myself at least to the auditions. No such help. I couldn't imagine myself anywhere near the auditions and nowhere near the stage unless I was in the audience. I sighed. Perhaps I was never meant to sing in this play. Even when we were singing in choir, I always hid among the back. I never attempted a solo, and I never even dared speak up in class. I was just far too shy. Softly, I began to cry again. Why was I so utterly weak?

_"Hush…don't cry now, Ryou Bakura…"_

I snapped my eyes awake. What? Where…Where did that voice come from? Was it my angel?

_"Don't cry, Ryou Bakura…"_

My eyes widened as I looked about the room. Biting my lip, I hesitantly called out, "Angel?"

The voice laughed, a rather eerily laugh that didn't quite suit it.

_"I suppose you can call me that, Ryou. I am the dark angel of the Sennen Ring."_

My eyes widened drastically as they jumped down to my Millennium Ring. The eye upon it began to glow, to illuminate against my features in a holy light. I took a step back, before quickly falling to my knees, staring at the treasure upon my chest.

"Angel…?"

Another laugh. "_Hush now, Little Ryou. What is it that you wish? Tell me."_

Shivering slightly, I looked up to the ceiling, expecting my angel to appear before me. Nothing. The room was bathed in entire darkness, except the single ray of moonlight from my window.

"I wish…I want to be stronger, Angel!" I cried. "I want to be stronger, Angel!"

There was a soft, contemplating silence as I held my breath.

"Please Angel…" I whispered softly, hugging my knees to my chest. "I don't want to be alone, Angel. Please don't leave me."

_"Do not cry, Little Ryou. Your prayers have been answered." _He paused. "_I know all of your wishes, Little Ryou. I know how you are treated in school. How you are invisible to those around you, how you are bullied and constantly protected by your friends. " _He paused again, and when he spoke once more, it was soothing, tempting, as though right in my ear.

"_And I can help you with that, Little Ryou," _he whispered. "_But in return, you must obey me. You must be solely loyal to me, and no one else. You cannot allow yourself to be tempted by the siren forces of love. You must be determined."_

" I will be, my Angel," I promised, nodding my head rapidly. "I will be."

_"Then go to sleep, Little Ryou," _he coaxed, "_go to sleep. You will only be weakened if you do not have energy. I shall be with you, Little Ryou. You do not need to fear anything. Not even the darkness."_

"Why?" I asked as I slipped under the covers obediently. "Why should I not fear the darkness?"

_"Because I am living in the darkness."_

I nodded, slipping my eyes shut. "Angel….you won't leave me, will you?"

I felt his fingers, once again, slip past my cheeks in a soothing, loving manner. I murmured satisfyingly beneath his touch.

_"I will never leave you, Little Ryou. Now go to sleep. The auditions are not far away, and you and I will have to work very hard to get your confidence up. One cannot be strong when they are lacking confidence."_

I nodded again, forcing myself to doze asleep, despite my eagerness to stay awake and hear his voice. My Angel was real! He was sitting beside me, stroking my cheeks, calming me to sleep! How I longed to throw myself into his arms, and give him everything I had in thanks. My father was right. My guardian angel was real!

He seemed to sense my inability to sleep, and softly, began to sing that my father used years before.

_"Little Ryou, let his mind wander._

_Little Ryou thought: Am I a fonder of dolls_

_Or of goblins, of shoes, of riddles, of souls_

_Or of chocolates…?"_

He paused, and I smiled. His voice chased away the loneliness of the night that I so feared. I longed to snuggle close to him, but to feel his fingers slipping pass my face was enough for now. I began to doze off in a slumber, singing the ending to the song in my head as he allowed his voice to travel into my ears…

_"No, what I loved best, Ryou said_

_Is when I'm finally asleep in my bed_

_And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…_

_…the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"_

In my head….

* * *

Yeah, this might be a little dark. Whoever had actually read Phantom of hte Opera and "Phantom" , knows exactly how dark this can be. XD And with ...well, I suppose you can all guess now who's actually the "Phantom". XD Oh yeah...in the actual Phantom of the Opera play that they're playing, guess who's who. The PotO play for them is sort of...a distraction. It's not really what the story is about. It's something much deeper than that. (beams) 

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!

OR BE CURSED TO HAVE A CHANDELIER CRASH UPON YOUR HEAD!

Erik: Oooh ooh! (rubs hands)

Bakura: ExCUSE me...? (grabs chandelier)

Erik: (starts to sing)

Baku: (faints)

Erik: Thank you.

XD


	3. Think of Me

Lalalala, short pathetic update. Yeah, it's a bit confusing where Marik and Malik are invovled, but sooner or later, I will explain entirely. Do not fear!

Originally, I wanted Malik as Raoul, but I hated Malik x Ryou pairings, adn I so wanted Marik to be in the place of Raoul. So...(beams)

yes, the characters will be singing. Look! It's "Think of Me" in this chapter! And a little bit of "Music of the Night"!

Disclaimer: Don't own YGO, or PotO. There. Nor the lyrics. Oh, I do own Ayato though! He's sort of a Kyo-like person, but with more hyperness and less termpermental issues. you know. Kyo from Fruit Baskets?

* * *

Chapter Three 

"Come on, Ryou," Yugi ushered, pushing against me as I stared at the closed door with uneasiness.

"N-no…I don't think I can Yugi," I said weakly, eyeing the door with apprehensive wariness. "N-no…let's just forget this entire thing, okay Yugi? It's not even really that important…"

"Come on, Ryou-kun," sighed Yugi. "For your father's sake?"

I gulped.

Suddenly, the all-too familiar voice of my angel sang softly in my ear, coaxing me with his heavenly and comforting presence.

_"Little Ryou…this is your first test," _my angel spoke softly, disappointment and anger clearly laced in his voice, "_You want to be stronger, don't you? Come now, do not disappoint me, Little Ryou. I don't want my weeks of teachings to be in utter vain."_

I froze, then swallowed guiltily. Yugi was still attempting to push me through the oak doors, where the auditorium was filled with students attempting to audition.

* * *

It had been weeks since my introduction with my angel, and for every night following that night, in my dreams, he would visit. He would bring me to a room, though I was not sure where, but a room, with a roaring fire and cushy armchairs. I would sit by his side and listen to his teachings, learning all that I could.

Occasionally he listened to me sing, in payment for what he had been teaching me. His shadow, always shielding his face and hiding his hair, would simply lean back in his chair and observe me with his haunting brown eyes. I would sit on the floor near his side, singing when my lesson of self-reliance was over, while he observed me and listened.

"You have a lovely voice," he once said softly, his gloved fingers reaching over to feel my hair. I blinked up, smiling a hesitant, small smile as blush tinted my cheeks pink once again. "I have no doubt that you can make it through the auditions, Little Ryou. However, you need to worker harder on your assignments of self-defense."

I had nodded obediently, looking firmly up at him.

"I trust you have not been tempted by leisure activities?" he had asked, his eyes narrowing sharply. I had hastily shaken my head.

"No, Phantom, Angel, I have not," I assured. I looked up at him. "Angel…perhaps one day…would it be alright if I see your face?"

He gave me a sharp, hard look, that even within the darkness of the shadows I had flinched at.

"No," he said simply. "Never. You may never look at my face, Little Ryou. Should you wish for me to stay as your angel, you will come to learn that you will never see my face. Never."

I had nodded, staring at the ground.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, my Angel."

"Little Ryou," he had whispered softly, his fingers skillfully titling my head up to face his, "you needn't fear. Consider it as a precaution, for should you never look at my face, no harm will ever come to you. Do you understand?"

I had nodded again, glancing at the floor. Though despite he was my angel, sometimes, simply by his teachings alone, reflected how dark and dangerous he could be. I had learned to take precaution as to not to anger him; for fear that he might hurt me, and also, for fear that he would leave me.

"I understand, Angel."

* * *

_"Ryou," _hissed my Angel now. "_Your first test. Will you succeed? Or will all my attempts be in utter vain?"_

"No, it won't," I replied, straightening confidently. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that Yugi was practically throwing all his weight against me, and as I straightened, he accidentally collided into my spine, sending both of us through the oak doors and sprawling onto the carpet ground.

I could almost _feel _my angel's embarrassment now.

"Ow," Yugi muttered a bit, nursing his head. "Ryou, what was that for?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely, my cheeks blushing pink from embarrassment.

"That's okay," Yugi assured, getting up and brushing his pants a bit. He looked concernedly upon his Millennium Puzzle, which was hanging on a thick chain around his neck. "Wooh. I'm glad it's not broken."

"I doubt it can be," I said, getting up also. "Father said that the Items are unbreakable. By anything."

"It's solid gold though," Yugi countered, examining his precious gift closely.

Giggling, I grasped onto Yugi's hand, and, staring determinedly ahead, walked down the aisle.

"I can do this," I kept on muttering to myself. "I can do this."

"Of course you can, Ryou!" Yugi piped up, a little too loud. Heads swiveled around to look at us, and I could just imagine how appalled each of them looked. Of course, I could only have imagined, since I was staring dead straight ahead of me, my eyes widening with each step I took.

The stage was meters way!

Feet away!

I stopped at the stage steps, staring up at the monstrous wooden structure with utter awe, until I felt Yugi tug at my sleeve. Sheepishly, I turned away, making a note as to not look at my companions, and sat down in the front row.

There were only guys left, since the woman roles had been auditioned for earlier that day. Everywhere, jocks and heavily built men surrounded me; handsome, strong ones with dark brown hair, dangerous, naughty ones with slick black hair, demure or mischievous paler ones with slicked up hair.

…I was surrounded by Raouls!

But it was not like I was Phantom material, anyways. I hardly looked _human_, with my white hair and dark brown eyes, much less a Phantom. Heck, I couldn't even pass as a guy unless I was wearing my sweater!

As I began to berate myself with self-criticism and doubt, I could almost feel a small chiding sense inside of me, as though one was tugging at the back of my mind.

"Calm down, Ryou," I whispered to myself. "Calm down. Calm down. We can all do this. We can do this."

Yugi barely even heard my attempts at self-confidence. He seemed to be staring off into space, as though thinking with himself, before he suddenly snapped out of his reverie and shook me.

"You can do this, Ryou-kun!" he beamed.

I smiled weakly at him. "Thanks."

Gradually the room began to dim, signaling the start for the auditions. Madame Giry made herself present uptop the stage, wearing a long, simple black dress with white ruffles. She looked like a French maid doll.

"Studentz," she called, beaming as she clapped her hands. "Zis is the first, and only performance of ze Phantom of ze Opera, and I am so glad to see all of you 'ave come to try out. We 'ardly ever get zis many studentz, I assure you."

A round of snickers of agreement resounded around the room. I took the darkness as my advantage to blush furiously when I realized that a couple of girls had opened up one of the doors and were staring at me intently, giggling all the while.

"You're so popular, Ryou-kun," Yugi teased.

"Oh, be quiet," I moaned, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball and hide away.

"We will be calling you in alphabetical order," Madame Giry continued, "starting with your last namez."

Oh great. 'Bakura' would be relatively close to the top. 'Motou' would at least be somewhere in the middle.

"Hey, Bakura-kun!" whispered a voice.

Both Yugi and I swiveled around, to see Ayato, one of our classmates, wink at us from the row behind us. Both Yugi and I smiled in greeting.

"Hello, Ayato-kun!"

Ayato. He was a playful, mischievous sort of person, the one who makes everyone laugh, the one who usually smart the substitute teachers off. He was a very friendly person, if not a little wild; his smirk and smile as bright as his flaming red hair, thin and sharp, falling in narrow, messy spikes uptop his head. His eyes were a bright, vivid green, laced with hazel at the edges, which gave him a rather cat-like appearance. Especially when they glowed in the dark.

Like now.

"Hey, Ayato-kun," I smiled pleasantly. "How are you?"

"Good," Ayato nodded, flashing me a smile. "What about this play eh? Pretty classy. An opera."

"This school has always been very well known for the historical arts," I said, smiling. "What are you here for?"

At this, Ayato flashed another grin, rubbing his hands together in a rather villain-ish fashion.

"Dropping a chandelier?"

I couldn't help but giggle, since it didn't seem very far off to have Ayato-kun prancing on the stage lights and swinging from the jewels of the ornament.

"That wouldn't be nice, Ayato-kun," I chided.

"Yeah, well," Ayato grinned. "Maybe I'll do it for the opening night."

"So you're here to audition for Erik?" Yugi asked cheerfully.

"Nah," Ayato said, waving a careless hand. "My friend Mano is though."

"Mano?" I repeated, racking my head back a bit. Who was Mano again? I knew Mako…he was a local fisherman's son, always helping out with the fish markets nearby. He was pretty strong and a bit straight-forward and determined.

"Mano," Ayato confirmed. "Doubt you've met him, Bakura-kun. He's more on the dangerous side." The redhead winked, nudging me with his elbow. "And I doubt you're ever there, eh, Bakura-kun?"

I blushed furiously. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I knew you wouldn't," Ayato laughed, his red spikes shaking as he threw his head back. "You wouldn't want to meet him, though, Bakura-kun. Mai's got her eyes set on him."

"Mai?" I repeated. "You mean the blond girl in our English class?"

"The one and only," Ayato nodded. "She tried out for Christine, because Mano's trying out for Erik. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Do they…er…want to be together?" Yugi asked, knowing full well how dangerous gossip was, and didn't quite wish for any school caste mishaps to occur.

"Yep," Ayato nodded. "Don't worry yourself, Yugi-kun. They got it all figured out."

Suddenly, there was silence in the room, and all three of us turned back to the stage. Madame Giry didn't seemed to have commenced the auditions, since no one was going on, but yet she was standing off to the side, awaiting patiently for someone. Distinctly, I heard footsteps thudding dully closer and closer to the stage.

"I would like to introduce to you," the French teacher said, beaming, "our patron this year for our 'istorical artz, as well as ze Egyptian Exhibition in the museum…"

A tall, finely built young man, with fine golden hair that shot up towards the heavens, and heavenly tanned complexion, stepped up upon the stage. His face held a cold, stone expression, accented by the sharp kohl lines at the edges of his narrow eyes. In an instant, the girls huddling near the doors shrieked and squealed at this godly figure, the doors banging shut as females swooned and fainted by the doors.

I gasped.

"Marik!"

All sounds were tuned out instantly in my ears, as I sat there, watching, with awe and amazement, as Marik barely acknowledged the audience with a nod, before stealthily entering back into the shadows, his amethyst eyes blazing in the darkness.

"Who is he?" Yugi whispered. "Ryou-kun, you're looking so flushed."

"It's him," I breathed. "It's him. It's Marik."

"Marik?" Yugi repeated.

"The boy," I whispered back. "The boy in the underground palace when I went to Egypt!"

I could remember him so clearly…

_I was only nine when I first accompanied my father to Egypt. Pyramids rose in the morning sun and cast shadows upon us when the star set. Father was overseeing the archeology dig, occasionally laughing and patting me on the back, urging me to follow his footsteps. He'd even allow me go down with the archeologists, despite the workers' complaints about having a child among them._

_"Let him play," my father laughed. "He's going to be in charge of this one day, why not let him start now?"_

_Of course, a couple groaned at that._

_I, of course, merely sat from the dig, watching my father and being careful of my surroundings. I would've loved to dig, but I knew that I would only cause trouble among the workers. Plus, the sun was not good on my soft and sensitive skin. Even on that hot summer day, despite sitting beneath the shade of the dried leaves of a palm tree, I had been swathed in thin linens, and a hood and veil, including a scarf. It was a scarf my mother had made for me, and my Japanese name and my English name had been embroidered in gold thread on the edge. Father had one similar too. "James Bakura", it read on his._

_As I sat there among the scorching dunes, idly playing with the peeking blades of grass, I had noticed an abandoned dig somewhere off. Curious, I wandered over, carefully taking measured steps with my sandaled shoes, before coming towards the large stone pillars, partly unearthed by the wisping sand. They stood tall, ominous, almost, cracked and withering, but still beautiful in my eyes._

_"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked my father's voice fondly._

_I whipped around, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Father?"_

_He smiled at me, before looking at the stone pillars once more. "I've never actually been in there before. They say it's cursed."_

_"But that's never stopped you before," I laughed, taking his hand. "Can we go in? Please?"_

_His eyes twinkled, the same way mine did when I was also excited. "Why not?"_

_Hence the two of us strode forwards, entering the shadows of the pillars. The entire embankment was dark, ominous, as was the outside. Indescribable hieroglyphics shone from deep within the darkness, flashing at us with incoherent vision. _

_We wandered about, me never leaving my father's hand, until we had come to a stop in front of a wall. I had not learned anything about hieroglyphics yet, but my father was an expert, and soon, he was engaged into reading the little squiggly lines that I myself could not decipher._

_So, I got bored._

_"This is absolutely fascinating!" my father breathed. "It is rumored that the ancient Keepers of the Pharaoh live beneath here."_

_"What about the curse?" I asked, wandering towards a corner. There was an unusually large mound of sand there, as though the embankment had been leaking with the golden grains._

_"Something about 'he who trespasses will fear the darkness of the night'," my father chuckled. "Sound familiar, Little Ryou?"_

_I giggled. "Sounds like Erik."_

_Father laughed, before he began to sing, his low tenor voice echoing off the empty walls._

_"Night time charms and heightens each sensation…"_

_"…darkness wakes and stirs imagination," I sang along with him, giggling. He broke off, grinning at me._

_"You got your mother's talent," he said, shaking his head._

_I shook my head too. "No. I have your voice."_

_"Well, that's because I've been taught by the Angel of Music," Father joked. _

_"Is mother an angel too?"_

_Father faltered at this slightly, before giving me an assuring smile. "Yes. Mother is an angel too."_

_"And Amane?" I asked. Father nodded, smiling._

_"Amane too," he said. Then he lightly punched me in the shoulder playfully. "And so are you."_

_"Then you're an angel too!" I beamed, hugging him. He chuckled, before moving to wrap his arms around me. However, something went a little wrong._

_For when Father had moved to return the embrace, his hand had slipped pass a curve in the wall. Suddenly, the floor creaked, before it began to tilt slightly. I gasped, losing my balance, and promptly fell toward the mound of sand._

_"Ryou!" my father yelled worriedly._

_The mound began to shift, ebbing away towards the side. I yelped once more, flailing my arms desperately as a felt the floor beneath me shake, before tilting farther down._

_"Daddy! Help me!" I cried._

_"Hold on, Ryou!" Father yelled, reaching his hand toward me. "Grab my hand!"_

_Suddenly, the mounds of sand shifted entirely. I flailed once more, before I fell…_

"Ryou! Ryou!"

Startled, I jolted up, thrashing my head around for any sign of danger. The only thing that was hurting me though, was Yugi poking at my upper arm.

"Ryou!" he whispered again.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, pushing his finger away from me, as I felt my sensitive skin already bruise from such a repetitive abuse. "What's going on?"

"You dozed off," Yugi said, frowning. "You were looking all glazed."

"Did I miss something?" I asked worriedly.

Yugi shook his head. "No, no. They're at the end of the As, now. I just thought you would've liked to see Ayato in action."

"Ayato?" I repeated. "But he said he was only here to see Mano…"

Suddenly, a high but rather flat note was hit, and the next moment Ayato came flying off the stage, the chandelier swinging precariously as he cackled like mad and ran for the door. Before the doors closed, he winked at me.

"…_there worse things than a shattered chandelier!" _

"He changed his mind," Yugi said simply. I shook my head, chuckling exasperatedly as stage hands desperately attempted to stop the swinging precipice. The oak doors shut, but Ayato's laughter was still heard, echoed by those of the audience.

Madame Giry came back up, chuckling also. "Well," she said, a rueful smile on her lips. "That was unique." She glanced at her list, before regarding the student population once more. Sighing forlornly, I stood up, knowing that my name was about to be called.

"Monsieur Bakura!"

_"Ow! Hey!" _

_Blinking, I shot my eyes open, before I came to realize that I was lying at a terrible angle on something soft. My father's anxious face was above me, staring from what seemed to be the open doors of a trap door._

_"Ryou!" he yelled. "Are you alright?"_

_"I'm….I'm fine, Father!" I called back, wincing as I felt my back. _

_"If you don't mind," said a voice behind me moodily, "could you please kindly get off?"_

_'Eeep'-ing, I quickly scrambled off my human pillow, hastily backing up the steps of the trap door towards my father. A shadow grunted, scrambling up also._

_"What's your problem?" he asked, pouting. His voice seemed to be that of a child's, roughly around my age. However, he spoke with an accent, an Egyptian one at that. "Can't you see where you're going?"_

_"I'm…I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I honestly I had no idea where …where I was going…I'm so sorry!"_

_He shook his head, finally coming out of the shadows. I blinked._

_Though he was small, he was a full three inches taller than I was, with large lavender eyes and golden, flaxen hair. My eyes widened at his. Such a deep lavender; they reminded my of my mother's flowers on the kitchen table, deep, rich and beautiful. _

_Yet, despite the memory of my mother, I had come to realize that this child's eyes were different shade than that of my mother's flowers. They were a pastel shade of lavender, glazed and smooth, like shadings of mauve and magenta. _

_"You're not supposed to be here," he said, frowning at me. "Get out of here, foreigner."_

_"Malik!" called a woman's voice. I froze, shaking a little. Malik turned back, his eyes wide as his golden hair flailed across his shoulders. He turned back to look at me, blinking oddly._

_A teenage girl came running into view, her dark hair billowing out from behind her. She stopped short when she saw me, and I began to shake more violently. Her blue eyes widened drastically, before my father's voice echoed down from above._

_"I'm so sorry to have bothered you!" he called anxiously. "Please forgive us. We were merely exploring the embankment above…I am James Bakura, the leader of the archeology crew that's working here. My son just fell down…ah…could you please bring him back up?"_

_"We have stairs," said the blond boy, blinking. He pointed to the crumbling stairway. I made a scared face; the stones looked as though they were to shatter the moment I lay foot upon them._

_"Wait a minute," said my father's voice. "…aren't you…you're living underground?"_

_"We don't need to answer your questions!" the girl said sharply. She grabbed Malik's hand, giving him a look. "Malik, come on…Father will be mad…"_

_"You're…you're a Keeper?" I asked, my eyes lighting up. "A Keeper?"_

_Malik gave me a hard stare that looked a lot like a pout. "I am not!"_

_"Yes he is," the girl sighed. "Come on, Malik…"_

_However, he wrenched his arm away from her, giving her a look. "I don't WANT to be a Keeper!"_

_"Malik, not now!" the girl hushed anxiously._

_"I assure you," interrupted my father's voice calmly. I looked up, and saw that he was carefully coming down the steps of the stairway. "We mean no harm. We know of the Pharaoh's Keepers, and we would not ever divulge their whereabouts to the world. You needn't fear us."_

_Malik blinked, staring up at the girl, then back at me. Suddenly his eyes flashed excitedly, before he began to bounce up and down. "You came from the outside world?"_

_"Ahh…yes," I smiled shyly._

_"Then you can tell me all about it!" Malik beamed. He looked up at the girl. "Please, sister! Please!"_

_"Malik, I don't know," she said uneasily. "Father will be upset…"_

_"I shall talk with your father then," my own said firmly. He had finally reached the bottom steps, and laid a hand on my shoulder. I ran to him, hugging him around the waist. "This is my son, Ryou. We will be staying here for a couple of months, possibly years, and we have no decent place to stay. Our last hotel was destroyed by a sandstorm. If it is not too much trouble, may we stay here with you?"_

_"Why on earth would you want to do that?" the girl asked._

_Father smiled. "My son, Ryou. He's always bored when I'm doing my excavating in the above world, I'm sure he'd be glad to stay with a boy his age. Malik, is it?" my father asked, fluent Egyptian rolling off his tongue. Malik nodded, before turning excitedly to his sister._

_"Please, Isis!" he pleaded. "Please?"_

_"We…we have to ask Father," Isis replied uneasily. My father stepped up, laying a hand on her shoulder._

_"It will be fine," he assured kindly. "I will talk to your father. I mean no harm. We would not tell anyone about the Keepers who live underground. All I ask is for us to stay in the meantime, until we find another place to stay."_

_"Okay!" Malik beamed, grabbing my hand and running off. _

_"Malik!" Isis called worriedly, while my father chuckled._

_"He needs some self-confidence," I heard my father explain to Isis softly. "Ryou. I was hoping that if he stayed with Malik, he would have a friend to stay with him should I ever go."_

_Isis nodded. "I understand. Malik doesn't get along very well with the other children either." She turned to my father. "Well then…I suppose…you will do all the talking, won't you?"_

_My father nodded. "Yes."_

_Malik jerked me back to reality, beaming at me. "So, what's your name again?" he asked._

_"Ryou," I said, smiling weakly, a blush appearing on my nose. Malik giggled, poking at my nose._

_"You're turning red! You're so pale!" he said, poking my nose again. I couldn't help but giggle too._

_"What's your name?" I asked._

_"Malik," he said, though I had missed the pronunciation the second time. "Malik."_

_"Marrik," I repeated. He shook his head._

_"Mah…Lik," he said slowly. I stopped, frowning with concentration._

_"Mah…Rik…"_

_Again he shook his head. "MaLIK."_

_"MaRIK."_

_My father laughed from behind us. "That's his mother's Japanese kicking in."_

_"Japanese?" Isis wondered._

_"Yes," my father nodded. "Seems as though despite he can speak English very well, Ryou can't seen to speak any other language without falling on his mother's Japanese for help. And in Japan, you don't pronounce the L in many words. They pronounce it like an R."_

_"Ah, I see," Isis nodded, as I desperately continued to get Malik's name right._

_"MaLIK!" he said, putting heavy emphasis on the L._

_"MaRIK!"_

I stood up on stage, finally now realizing that I was staring at thousands of eyes. I spotted Jonouchi and Honda way in the back, cheering me on, and blushed. Casting my eyes back, I saw Marik standing in the shadows, his eyes lingering with mine. I felt my heart race, but thought nothing of it.

Well, I knew how to pronounce "Malik" now. Though despite I had grown to pronounce Malik's name after his tenth birthday, after his …initiation…he insisted that I continue calling him "Marik."

His initiation…a Keeper's glory…

I still have nightmares about it.

After he had his initiation, his personality changed. I could understand that. Having his back scarred for life would change his view on certain things on life. He rarely spoke to anyone, unless it was either my father, Isis, or his adoptive brother, or me. And with me and Father, he changed most drastically. He was still…the innocent boy that I had first met, with Isis and Rishid, but with me and my father…he was darker, more mature, more strong.

Would he still remember me now?

I noted his cold glare from the shadows. Those eyes that I had remembered were pastel lavender were now dark amethyst, piercing violet fire.

Would he still remember me?

Taking a deep breath, and feeling my angel chide me deep inside, I stared back out at the audience, and began to sing.

It felt lovely, singing like this. It was a song that I had adored when I was younger, a song that my father and I used to sing by Marik's bed when he was resting his scars. Occasionally my father played the violin, accompanying the song while I sang.

"_Think of me…think of me fondly when we've said good bye…_

_Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try_

_When you find that once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_But please promise me that sometimes,_

_You will think of me…"_

I felt his gaze linger upon me, and dared a look. His eyes were slowly growing back to a soft lavender, but he made no move to come to me, or to acknowledge me, other than his piercing gaze. I swallowed, feeling a little upset that he didn't seem to remember me, but continued the song that Christine sang during the musical, that my Father and Mother changed slightly to bring it down an octave for me. I was, after all, an alto, despite the fact that occasionally I could sing tenor.

_"Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the things that might've been_

_Think of me, think of me waking silent and resign_

_Imagine me, trying so hard to put you from my mind_

_Rid all those days, look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'd rather do_

_There would never be a day that I don't think of_

_…you!"_

_

* * *

_

Marik POV

Gods, I couldn't believe it. After all those years, after I had stuffed my lighter half into the deepest corner of my heart, there he was…Little Ryou!

I could tell he had remembered me. He stared at me for a single second, his eyes glittering with hope and happiness, as he sang the very same song that I had listened to, the night after my initiation.

Oh, the memories it brought back.

Would he still care for me? I had only known him a few weeks before my initiation, but a few months after that. Which did he remember? The lighter me that first greeted him, or the darker me that saved his precious scarf from a sandstorm when he was ten?

Oh, how I had longed to simply walk there, capture him in my arms, and grin and sing with him once more. His father had always been different from my father. His father took me in, cared for me like his own son, despite his own losses of a wife, and soon after he met me, a daughter. Even when I had killed my own father, Mr. Bakura still cared for me, understood me, and Ryou was still there for me. He didn't turn away like the servants did, he didn't run away like the other kids did. If anything, he kept by me, and stayed with me.

I had never known such compassion from strangers.

As he continued to sing, I marveled at his wondrous voice. Though melodious and talented when he was younger, he was certainly breathtaking now! As he sang, words and notes of memories floated into my mind, echoing in harmony with his wondrous voice.

_"Can it be? Can it be Ryou?"_

He had finished his verse, though I mentally continued mine. The auditorium burst into applause, and, hiding within the depths of the shadows, so did I.

_"Bravo!_

_What a change! You're really not a bit_

_The gawkish boy that once you were!_

_He may not remember me, but I remember him…"_

Despite he had finished his verse, the audience sat silent, waiting for more. A couple of boys from the back and front whopped and clapped their hands, yelling, "Ryou! Ryou!" He dared another look at me, and for a moment, I was frozen shock, unable to return the beautiful glance, before he turned back, his face pinking.

I watched as he cast a nervous look towards Madame Giry. She nodded, smiling, and for a moment, he took a deep breath, anxiously watching the audience. For another moment, he stared down at the floor, as though mentally debating with himself. Suddenly, filled with abrupt anticipation and confidence, he looked up, and continued singing.

As did I, softly under my own breath.

_"We never said our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_But please promise me that sometime, you will think…"_

He took a deep breath here, his tenor voice pitching into an alto, echoing against the walls of the auditorium.

_"Oooofffff……. ME!"_

He released his breath as the audience burst out into applause once more. Several girls from the doors shrieked and fainted, whereas I remained watching from the shadows, breathless with anticipation. Looking relieved and excited, Ryou hugged himself, tears in his eyes, as he nodded to Madame Giry and walked down the stage.

"I have thought of you, Little Ryou," I whispered. "I have indeed."

* * *

I did type out the part with Ryou singing the "ah ah ah ah Ah, aha ah ah ah Ah," but then I thought, "he's a guy, forget it." Of course, I do believe Micheal Crawford did sing "Think of Me" one time, but I dont' have his version to inspire Ryou's voice.

Forgive me if the "Think of Me" lyrics are a little off; I dont' have my little liberetto and I dont' dare to search these things online. So I just listen realy hard and go, eh, this is how I thought of it. And typed it out.

I memroized these things by heart, people! (claps) I am that obsessed!


	4. Memories and Casting

Rushed, very rushed. So it may sound pathetic and choppy, but I've been very busy lately, so this was the best I could do on short notice. Hope you enjoy!

I hate the little bits with Marik as a child. He's way OOC in them, especially wehn I TRY to get him more Canon-ish, but instead ending up with a victim of a pedophile. (Groans) A perverted kid, in other terms. I hope I made him okay enough though. He'll get more Canon-ish as the story progresses. And yeah, have you noticed the pattern between Malik and Marik? The different names are differently used in different circumstances. Can you guess which?

XD Enjoy! Read and review!

* * *

Chapter Four

Ryou POV

Taking a deep breath, a grinned, and continued my way off the stage. I felt so giddy inside! Being able to finally sing on stage without embarrassing myself truly elated my heart to the heavens! Shaking with happiness, I looked up towards the ceiling, almost expecting my angel to appear before me, to give me a proud and congratulating smile.

There was nothing but darkness.

Still, it didn't bother me too much. After all, I could hardly expect an angel, guardian or not, to float down from the heavens just to congratulate me. I was merely a mortal boy. Perhaps one day I would see my Angel's face, when I had finally reached my goal.

Yet, there seemed to be a small, proud swelling inside of me that was not my own; though small as it was, it seemed to be pleased, like a single smile in the darkness. Was it my Angel?

Laughing, Yugi lunged at me, tackling me quite hard around the waist. The small, unfamiliar smile that I had felt within me vanished, replaced by my own pride.

"That was so beautiful, Ryou!" Yugi squealed, stepping back and beaming at me. I laughed, before also drawing him into a hug.

"Thanks, Yugi," I said, smiling softly. "It meant a lot to me. Thanks."

Yugi beamed wider in reply. "No problem, Ryou-kun! See! I told you you could do it! You just needed some confidence." With that, he playfully poked at me again, before hurrying off back to his seat. I looked up and saw that Honda and Jonouchi were winking playfully at me, before disappearing into another boyish fight in the back. Honda sent me a wide grin when his face reappeared and Jonouchi sent me a thumbs-up. Giggling, I waved back, before settling myself down in my seat.

When I looked back onto the stage, I was disappointed to see that Marik was no longer there. Had he left when I was singing? At this, my heart sank slightly, before I flinched. Leisurely thoughts! As my Angel said! No romance!

…wait. What romance?

I didn't care for Marik…did I?

_After I first met Malik, we became instant, brotherly friends. I liked how he was so eager and so curious about everything. Once in a while, I would actually find him snooping through my things in effort to find something in the above world; books and whatnot. One time he had found my father's musical notes and ran to me, looking very quizzical._

_"What's this?" he asked, holding the sheets of notes upside-down at me. "This is strange! Is this some sort of foreign language? It's not English."_

_I laughed, hugging him as I took the sheets away from his fingers. _

_"It's musical notes," I explained, plopping on the bed. He plopped right after me, staring at me with his pale lavender eyes. They looked so pretty. At times, they reminded me of watercolors of sunrises, especially when his golden hair flailed right in front of them._

_"Musical notes?" he asked, giving me a quizzical look as he cocked his head to one side._

_I nodded. "Haven't you ever heard of music before?" I asked, slightly surprised._

_He shook his head. "No," he said. _

_I was stunned, merely sitting there, blinking at him. Finally, he seemed to realize my surprise, and gave me hesitant, sheepish look, as one child does when they think they've done something wrong._

_"…What…is music?" he asked hesitantly._

_"You don't know what music is?" came my father's voice, also incredulous._

_Both of us swiveled our heads at the door, where he was standing. Making a surprised face, he took off his archeologist hat, throwing it like a Frisbee upon my bed, shaking his gray-white hair slightly. _

_Our family, despite having all white hair and pale skin, had different characteristics of shading in our hair. Mine was a vivid, snowy white, Father's was a pale lavender white, my mother's a cerulean white, and Amane's, strangely enough, had red tints in her hair. My father always had his in a pony-tail, and he had it cut short, just past his shoulders. Mother's was long enough past her waist, and Amane's wore hers like mine. Mother's had curls. Father's was straight. _

_Shaking his head once more, Father took the sheet of music from my hand, and looked at them, before breaking out into a smile. _

"_My my," he said, laughing. "You just had to find a fun score, didn't you?"_

_I clapped my hands. "Masquerade!" _

"_Masquerade?" Malik repeated, blinking again. "What does that mean?"_

"_It's sort of like a masked ball," I explained, twirling around excitedly, before sitting back on my bed. "Where everyone dances and wears disguises and costumes, so that you can't tell who you're dancing with."_

"_Ah, I see," Malik nodded. He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "What does it sound like?" he asked, when he looked back at me._

"_Well then, let me play for you!" Father laughed excitedly. He reached underneath my bed, tickling my dangling feet as he did so, and pulled out his violin case. Straightening, he positioned himself, before he began to play. I laughed happily, clapping my hands as I bounced on the bed._

"_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!" I sang. Father laughed also, and sang with me. "Masquerade! Spinning yellows spitting red, Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!"_

"_Flash of mauve, splash of puce!" I sang._

"_Fool and king, ghoul and goose!" my father continued, nodding animatedly._

"_Green and black, queen and priest!" _

"_Trace a rouge, face a beast!"_

_Laughing, I hugged Malik tight, beaming at him. "Do you like it?"_

_Blinking cutely, he nodded hesitantly. Yet his eyes seemed somewhat distant, somewhat…sad._

"_Malik?" I asked, looking concerned. "What's wrong?"_

_He shook his head, still looking distant. "Nothing…"_

_I blinked worriedly. "Do you not like it?"_

_He made another hesitant face. "I …I like it," he said, looking a little uncertain._

"_So…what's wrong?" I asked._

_He shook his head. "Nothing…" he said distantly, as though recalling memories of his own. "Nothing…"_

How long had I been daydreaming! Startled, I jolted back out of my reminiscent trance, and focused hard on the stage now. I could not be tempted!

….by what, exactly, though?

At any rate, I focused hard on the stage once more. Honda and Jonouchi were on, goofing off with play swords.

"…_the Angel of Death!" _Jonouchi yelled, whapping Honda's sword vengefully, sending it flying out of his hand and through the dangling jewels of the chandelier. A paste diamond had been cut loose, and promptly fell, quite undignified, onto Jonouchi's head.

For a moment, Jonouchi froze, staring straight in front of him with a hilarious expression on his face. Laughter echoed in the audience and as I turned towards the door, I saw Ayato red in the face from containing his laughter. Yet, his hand was trembling as he pinned it over his mouth, before he burst out laughing.

For a moment, Honda froze also, before he also burst out laughing, pointing at Jonouchi's horrified face.

"Yes, Angel of Death!" Honda snickered, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Oh, stop it, Angel of Death, you're killing me! Oh, you're killing me! Stop! Stop!" He laughed again, slapping his leg as Jonouchi sent him a death glare. "Oh yes, you're killing me! What a torturistic way to kill me! Death by laughing gas!"

"DIE!" Jonouchi roared, but grinning as he thrust the sword pass Honda's arm. Honda mocked gagged, before crumpling to his feet, and Jonouchi yelled triumphantly, standing on Honda's stomach, before the brown haired teen swiftly rolled away, causing Jonouchi to collapse once more.

"You're killing me," Honda snickered simply.

Jonouchi stuck out his tongue. "How dumb do you think I am?"

"You really don't want me to answer that," Honda snickered again, before holding out a hand. Sticking out his tongue once more, Jonouchi got up, then stalked, with as much dignity as possible, down the steps. Still snickering, Honda followed.

I couldn't help but giggle with Yugi as this entire comedy happened. Jonouchi caught me giggling and gave me an exasperated look, which only made me giggle harder. Behind his back, Honda kept on making faces and pointing to him winking at me and Yugi. Once again, we burst out into giggles, before Yugi had to go on stage.

Yet, distinctly, I found myself daydreaming once more…

"_Mah….lik?" I called out hesitantly, trying my best to get his name right. Relieved that I did this one time, I opened the door cautiously. I had heard a crash from his room and saw Rishid leave, giving me a small, apologetic smile as he did, before disappearing down the corridor. I blinked quizzically, before I creaked the door open fully, staring at Malik's back with worry._

"_Mah…lik?" I asked again._

_He turned around to see me, and I could see that he had been crying. Worry increasing, I rushed into the room, stopping short in front of him as he attempted to wipe away his tears. _

"_MahLik…" I said worriedly. "What's wrong?"_

_He shook his head, his bottom lip trembling. I held onto his hand._

"_What's wrong?"_

_Again he shook his head, but this time he answered. "It's…it's nothing."_

"_It's not nothing!" I cried out. Despite the fact that I had only known Malik for roughly around three weeks, the fact that I only had him as a friend scared me. "What's wrong?"_

_Tears leaked down his face as he stared at me, his wide, lavender eyes filling with more droplets of salty tears. "Ryou…have you …do you know when's my birthday?" he asked weakly._

_I sat back, staring up at him, frowning with thought. Had I missed his birthday? No…it was only coming up within the week…_

…_suddenly, my eyes widened, and I gasped, covering my hand with my mouth._

"_Oh no!"_

_Suddenly, Malik burst out crying once more, burying his face into his arms, as his shoulders quaked with sobs._

"_No…no it can't!" I said dumbly. I reached over to comfort him, despite my horror and shock. "No…no it can't!" I cried again._

"_It is!" he wailed, sobbing still. "I'm going to turn ten this week! And you know what Keepers like me get when I'm ten!"_

"_But…but it's only a myth!" I insisted. "The Pharaoh can't really be alive, can he? Please, Mah-lik…it can't be! You can't have the initiation!"_

_He cried out once more, shoulders shaking violently as he sobbed into his arms._

_I launched myself around his shoulders, but he pushed me back. I teetered on my seat for a moment, before crashing onto the floor. Yet, Malik still remained sobbing into his arms at the desk, his study book sprawled into the wall._

"_No…I'll…I'll talk to Daddy!" I insisted. "We can't let you go to the initiation! You'll be hurt!"_

"_I know!" he wailed. "I know! I can't….I know I can't bear the pain…" he shuddered, before sobbing once more. "I'll die from it! I know I will!"_

"_No you won't!" I cried out. "You won't! You won't!"_

_He continued to sob, as I heard the door creak open once more. My father stood at the doorway, blinking with shock at our crying forms, before he hesitantly walked over to us. Gently, he laid a hand upon Malik's shoulder, speaking softly in effort to calm Malik down._

"_Malik? What's wrong?" he asked._

_For a while, Malik continued to cry, before he began rambling incoherently in fluent Egyptian, as my father listened patiently. I had no idea what Malik was saying, so I merely sat back, and attempted to comfort him. _

_When he had finished, Father looked very grim. My father was hardly ever a solemn man. It had to be serious. It had to be true._

"_I'll go speak with your father," my father said softly. "Don't worry, Malik. We'll sort everything out."_

After my father wiped away my own tears and left to find Malik's father, Malik turned to me, his eyes shut tight, before…

_.…for an instant, his hair flew into the air, shooting towards the heavens. His eyes narrowed considerably, and a faint, golden Eye formed on his head. My eyes widened as I scooted back, before …_

_"I HATE my father!" Marik yelled._

The only thing that awakened me again, was the fact that Jonouchi's sword had been thrown out of his hand, and flew towards me, nearly beheading my head along the way. Yelping out in surprise and fright, I ducked towards one side, feeling the plastic blade narrowly sweep through my hair, before nailing someone else behind me.

As I stood, I noticed that Honda and Jonouchi had attempted yet another fight, this time without the swords. However in his playful state, Honda had forgotten that plastic swords could break from the plastic straps from which they were held onto, so when he attempted to aim a kick at Jonouchi's abs, his foot had hooked beneath the sword and sent it flying towards me.

It was then I had begun to realize that people were snickering around me. Of course, they could've been finding it humorous that Jonouchi and Honda were having another playful fight, but I, being the overly sensitive shy boy that I was, decided that my face was a little too hot for my liking, despite the darkness of the auditorium. So, secretly deciding that I should just leave…

…I did.

After saying a hasty goodbye to Yugi, I quickly left the side doors of the auditorium, thankfully meeting the brightness of the empty hallways. Now that I was alone, I was more than pleased at myself for managing to get upon the stage and perform. And for that, I had my Angel to thank for.

Distinctly, as I began to wander the halls in effort to cool my face down from that rather awkward moment, my mind began to do its own wandering. Though my feet eventually took me down the tarnished oak steps and into the more silent and forbidden wings, my mind took me to more dreams of my past with my father in Egypt…

…and with Marik….

_It was after his initiation, and Marik was still healing over his wounds. Sighing and obviously not very pleased to be confined in bed all day, I sat next to him, smiling occasionally to make him feel better, though the shock of the initiation still scared me. _

_As I sat there, idling fiddling with my long linen tunic, I discreetly began to observe Marik's appearance at the corner of my eyes. Wearing a rather crossed look, Marik's eyes were a deep lavender, smooth and unblemished. To some, they looked emotionless, and empty, but I found them rather beautiful, and very calming. They were narrower than usual, as Malik was quite known for his large, innocent and sweet eyes, but I paid little attention as my own trailed up towards his hair._

_What remarkable hair!_

_Golden bangs, and flaxen strands shooting up towards the heavens. I had never known anyone who had hair like that other than Yugi, but Marik's were so spectacular, and dramatic. At that moment, I longed to feel those strands, wondering how they could possibly defy gravity so. _

_"What are you doing?" he asked, blinking when my hand hesitantly reached forward to feel his hair._

_Instantly, I jerked my hand back to my side, looking sheepishly away. Why on earth was my own hand doing things on their own, without my own consent? Feeling my cheeks blush, I turn away, which was quite odd. I hardy ever blushed around Malik now, as I had gotten used to his brotherly nature, so whatever I did with him alone hardly seemed embarrassing, but somehow, it was awkward to be caught nearly feeling his hair._

_"You're not answering me," Marik whined lightly. _

_Blush turning darker, I quietly replied back, which was, once again, odd, as I never was very quiet around Malik. I was only quiet around strangers and those who were authorities. So why was I speaking timidly, to my very first and only best friend?_

_"I…ah…just wanted to…feel your hair," I blurted out at the end, my cheeks blushing furiously. _

_"Feel my hair?" Marik repeated, shifting towards me. "Why would you want to feel my hair?"_

_I blushed once more, pulling my knees up on the chair, inadvertedly dropping a very old scarf of mine. "It's…really…pretty," was all I could say, since Marik could always tell if I was lying or not. He cocked his head towards the side, thinking thoughtfully._

_"So…you wanted to touch my hair, because it was pretty?" he asked, blinking again._

_Grinning weakly, I nodded. Thinking hard once more, Marik lightly scratched the back of his head, before he said:_

_"So…can I touch you, because I think you're pretty too?"_

_Blinking my eyes wide open, I spun around to face him, having never heard such a comment from him. Malik usually joked with my complexion, saying how pale it was and how I desperately needed a tan. But never before had I ever had someone tell me I was pretty!_

_After the surprise had a chance to sink in, my blush immediately returned to my cheeks, flushing them with a very visible pink. "You think…I'm pretty?"_

_Seemingly unaware of how badly I was blushing, Marik nodded, still looking very thoughtful. After a few moments of silence, he turned back to me, before he noticed the blush on my cheeks, which still hadn't disappeared._

_"You're blushing," he said._

_Flushing even darker, I weakly laughed. "Yeah…"_

_"You're pretty too when you blush."_

_This time I felt my jaw drop open, my eyes wide with utter surprise. Where on earth was this coming from? Malik rarely ever spoke of my complexion, unless it was to poke my nose and go, "You're too pale, let's sneak out!" So where on earth was this coming from?_

_At this time, Marik seemed to notice that I was feeling very embarrassed and gave me a curious look. "Don't you think you're pretty?" he asked._

_I shook my head vigorously. _

_"Well, you are," he said simply, a note of finality in his voice. "So…can I touch you?"_

_"T-touch me?" I asked, confused and alarmed. _

_Marik looked at me, an indescribable gaze in his eyes. "Can I? You can touch my hair if you think it's pretty."_

_"Um….well….okay, I guess," I said, my fingers already reaching out to feel his hair. He shifted closer towards me, staring into my eyes as I timidly ran my fingers through his hair, surprised and squealing with excitement at the smooth, soft texture of his golden strands. They just…shot up! There was no other way to explain them. They just shot up._

_"That feels good," he said quietly, as my eyes sparkled with excitement as I continued to feel his hair again and again. Giggling, I scooted closer, then standing up, so that I could feel his hair as high as it would go. _

_"Your hair is so…different," I said, giggling still. _

_As I was distracted by his hair, I barely noticed that Marik had stood up too, until he loomed over me, since he was a head taller than I was. I blinked up in surprise and wonder as he stared down at me, before drawing something around my waist. Blinking, I looked down, and saw that he had picked up my discarded scarf and was tying it softly with a bow around my waist. _

_When he had finished, he stood back, ignoring my protests that he should be in bed, and analyzed me. "Look. Now you're wearing a dress. And you don't look too bad in it, either."_

_I blinked repeatedly, before I realized that by pinching the scarf around my waist, indeed, my long tunic had been reduced to something more or less like a dress, and at the thought, I blushed furiously once more. Laughing, Marik wrapped his arms around me, giving me a warm embrace._

_"See? It's okay if I hug you, right?" he asked. Breaking out into a smile, I giggled, and wound my arms around his neck, careful of his healing wounds._

_"Yes, you can touch me," I giggled. "Since you let me touch you. I like your hair."_

_"I like your hair too," Marik smiled._

"Good evening," said a voice.

Immediately, I was jolted from my daydream, and whipped around, chiding myself. Why could I not stop thinking about Marik? However, after taking a deep breath and banishing such thoughts away from my head, I proceeded to look up to the voice.

A young man, perhaps in his early twenties, stood before me. Immediately I noticed him to be Egyptian, as his unblemished skin was smooth and a healthy caramel shade. He was rather thin and slender, and very tall. His head was wound with a rather large white turban, hiding any traces of any hair he could've possibly have. But those eyes…

They were a distant cerulean, smooth and blank. For a moment, they reminded me of how Marik's eyes used to be when he was younger, smooth and calming, but this man's eyes looked as though they were capable of seeing beyond everyday life. He stood tall, his arms hung limply by his sides, his face unemotional and devoid of any expression except possibly seriousness.

"Uh…hello," I mumbled, still surprised at the new acquaintance. "Good evening," I said, quickly regaining myself. "Ah… am I disturbing you…sir…?"

"My name is Shaadi," he said calmly, his face still without a trace of any emotion at all. He reached out a hand and I shook it, feeling a little awkward underneath his solemn gaze.

"Good evening, Shaadi," I nodded, hoping my Egyptian pronunciation didn't sound too trivial. "Are you enjoying the exhibit?"

"I am actually in charge of the exhibit," Shaadi replied. I blinked.

"Really?" I asked, very curious.

Shaadi barely nodded. "Yes. I am one of the few who are in charge of this exhibit. I work for Mr. And Miss Ishtal."

"Marik and Isis?" I cried out in surprise. "But, isn't Marik chaperoning the arts this year?"

"Mr. Ishtal has other interests other than the exhibit," Shaadi replied, walking towards the glass case which the tablet of the Nameless Pharaoh was laid. "Personally, I do doubt it that Mr. Ishtal would've came at all if it wasn't for the arts. Mr. Ishtal doesn't often like to be questioned about his knowledge about Egypt."

"I see," I said softly, nodding. Indeed, it was understandable. Marik hated the fact that he was a Keeper, especially when he was young.

"Rishid!" called Shaadi suddenly. Another Egyptian man appeared from the side door of the museum. For a moment, the name Rishid jarred me, since it sounded very familiar. When I turned to face the newcomer, my heart leapt at the familiarity of the stranger.

Rishid!

He had barely changed at all, though when he was still Malik's servant, he was certainly a lot happier. Now tall and very built, Rishid had pulled his long hair into a ponytail at the back of his otherwise bald head, his left cheek and temple scarred with hieroglyphics. His amber eyes were so narrow and so solemn, he seemed to be so cold and unforgiving.

However, upon seeing me, Rishid gave me a fleetest of a smile, before addressing to Shaadi. I grinned back, before I began to walk around the exhibit again, longing to memorize all the papyrus on the walls so I could take them back to my dormitory and translate them in my spare time. As Shaadi and Rishid exchanged a conversation in Egyptian (far too advanced for my limited knowledge) I spied a scroll in the darkness of the corners, and eagerly stepped forward to examine it beneath the glass display.

Squinting in attempts to read it, I bent down, wishing that the dust had been brushed away so it would not cover the elegant letters. Furrowing my brow in concentration, I attempted to read the scroll to its full extent, but with no avail. Its words confused me so, but it seemed to be a rather long entry of a diary of sorts, describing a rather terrible day at the palace. Did it belong to a servant? I highly doubted that, since servants were not granted the permission to read and write, but then perhaps a very well educated farm boy.

"Still very interested, I see," said a voice behind me.

Jumping again and tiredly annoyed at how people seemed to have the tendency to scare me so, I turned around again, but smiled when I merely saw Rishid standing before me, a small smile on his face and his amber eyes softer than usual. I grinned in reply. One could never get a grin from Rishid, so one would've been ecstatic to see Rishid smiling a small smile. It was as far as he could go with displaying his emotions.

"Yes, I am," I said, beaming. "How are you enjoying Britain?"

Rishid made a rather odd shrug of his eyebrows, since he had the decency to avoid shrugging his shoulders. Servants never really did express themselves through bodily contact. But the shrug of his eyebrows told me that he didn't quite care for Britain at all, and I smiled at this.

"How long are you staying here?" I asked.

"As long as it needs be," he said simply. "Master Marik and Mistress Isis have much to do here. Even with Master Shaadi helping, I do doubt we could ever finish in time. Your father sent many things for us to display, and many are still loading in."

"Where are Isis and Marik anyway?" I asked.

"Mistress Isis is getting ready for her education," Rishid replied simply, still looking serious. "She will be attending your school here, as she is still yet a minor."

"She's still a minor?" I yelped, surprised. Isis could hardly ever seem to be a minor at all!

"Excuse me," Rishid apologized, closing his eyes so. "I meant to say that Mistress Isis has not completed her schoolwork nor her school years. Hence, she will be staying here and attending education here until she finishes her last year, and then proceed to continue the family archeology business."

"But what about Marik?"

"Master Marik has longed finished school," Rishid replied. "He has finished for about a year, already."

"Really?" I inquired. "But if Isis still needs to …"

"Mistress Isis has been taking care of the family business since Master Marik was young," Rishid explained patiently. "Much of her time as been taken to supervise the museum, and during that time, Master Marik has had the chance to be educated properly. He graduated with high honors."

I beamed. Marik had always been very strategic, though he was very stubborn. Such traits would no doubt get him very high marks in school, though he never really seemed to like it anyways. "That's wonderful! Can I see him?"

"Unfortunately, I had no current idea as to where he is," Rishid admitted. "But I suppose you ought to check your dormitory…he is very pleased to see you."  
"He is?" I asked, feeling oddly anxious.

Rishid's smile returned. "Oh yes," he said softly. "And we are very glad. Master Marik has not been in the best of moods since you left. You know how violent he can be at times."

Looking at my feet, I nodded. "Yes," I said quietly. Distinctly, I remembered a time, when I was ready to depart for home to Britain, one of the worker's older son and his group of friends had tried to attack me…I shuddered. Marik had taken down each and every one of them with such violent fervor, it had scared me. Nevertheless, I still cared for him, and I was very thankful to him for saving me that day.

There was a moment of silence, when I had hoped in my heart to perhaps see Marik walking through the door again, or perhaps even Isis, until Rishid broke it. He spoke softly, his tone hinting brotherly care, as he had taken care of me as well as he had taken care of any other one of the Ishtals since I had met them.

"You ought to go to back to your dormitory, Ryou," he said. "You do not look very well."

"I don't?" I asked, blinking confusedly. "How so?"

Taking my wrist as he did when I was nine, Rishid began to lead me towards the slightly open oak doors, where Shaadi was standing in front of, his gaze focused at a very odd angle to look at the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb. As my eyes trailed curiously towards Shaadi, I asked softly, "Who is Shaadi, Rishid? I've never seen him before."

Rishid closed his eyes, carefully guiding me as though a child towards the door. "Perhaps you will find out soon enough. Just do not be too surprised if Shaadi seems to appear out of nowhere before your very eyes." Finally reaching the doors, he opened them, gesturing to the grand staircase. "I would lead you if you wish," he said.

I smiled. "You don't have to act like a servant, Rishid," I admonished. "Come on, I can get there by myself. If you want to come with me, you can."

"Normally I would," Rishid continued, excusing my offers entirely. "However, I must wait for Master Marik and Mistress Isis." He turned back towards me, amber eyes locked onto mine, with a rather slow, calculating gaze upon them, as though he were contemplating something. Smiling his very small smile again, Rishid nudged me towards the staircase, before saying, "You look very pale, Ryou, and although you have grown very much since I've last saw you, you still need to take good care of yourself. We can't have you getting sick again and fainting again." He chuckled lightly when I blushed, exasperate that he even brought up such an embarrassing subject (for I used to frequently faint from lack of proper air down in their underground home).

"I'll be fine, Rishid," I assured, smiling.

"I'm not closing this door until I see you walking up those stairs, Master Ryou," said Rishid, bowing his head and hiding a smile. I sighed exasperatedly.

"Don't start in on that!"

"If I may daresay, Master Ryou, his master seems to take such civil servant manners much better than he used to."

I stomped my foot indignantly, knowing deep down Rishid loved it when I acted like the nine year old child he used to serve for. "Must you have a permanent track record for every time I blushed when I was living with Marik?"

"If Master Ryou excuses Rishid for such a joke," Rishid said, head still bowed, lips twitching at the corners, "but I do believe Master Marik would be more pleased if he heard that coming from your mouth when he's around."

"Oh, stop it!" I cried. "You're lucky I don't have a pillow with me right now, Rishid!"

"Master Ryou had very terrible aim that day, if I may say so," Rishid said, his tone just on the brink of a chuckle. "Have a very good sleep, Master Ryou."

I laughed. "Thank you, Rishid," I said, walking up the stairs. "It's good seeing you again."

"And I to," Rishid said, nodding. I grinned.

"I just wish I could see Malik again soon too," I said, beaming. "Oh, look finally!" I cried out triumphantly. "I got his name right." Waving goodbye, I walked up the steps of the stairs, knowing Rishid was inwardly smiling at my little joke. He had to spend endless nights to get my stubborn pronunciation right.

"Yes," Rishid said softly, as I disappeared out of sight. "Yes. We all hope we can see Master Malik again soon."

Finally managing to arrive at my dormitory, I realized that indeed, I was feeling rather faint. Perhaps my angel's lessons had pushed my energy a little too far, but it didn't matter. I liked his lessons very much so, but I had to have enough energy for my next. If only he were around, if only he were next to me, I could just wrap my arms around his neck and repeat the words "thank you" like a mantra.

Shoving the sheets to one side, I climbed into bed, eager to get a good night's sleep. It was a Saturday, and the decisions for the play would be posted the very next day. I was very glad that summer was approaching. If I practiced very hard and sang my very best, these last few months would zip by like a zephyr, and I would be free in the summer to do as I wished.

Snuggling deep into the sheets, I sighed contently, my fingers clasped around the Millennium Ring with fond affection.

Hearing my Angel's voice once more, I fell asleep, my senses lulling by his beautiful voice in heavenly notes.

_"Rishid! Rishid! Help me please! Ryou! Ryou! Help me, Ryou!" _

_I hurried to run, hearing Malik's desperate cry. My father pursued after me, worriedly calling my name to stop. Where was he? Where was Malik? Oh gods, if Malik had to continue with this horrible initiation…_

_I halted when I reached a intersection of the maze, and saw two robbed figures, carrying Malik, tear-stained, down the hall. He saw me, and his eyes pleaded for me to help. I ran to him, clutching hard around his waist._

_"Marik!" I cried. "I mean…Mal…Malik…"_

_"Ryou, help me!" he cried, as I felt his tears dampen my hair. "Ryou, please, help me!"_

_"I will!" I insisted, crying too. "I will, just hold on, Marik, daddy will be able to something."_

_"Ryou," came my father's voice, solemn and sad. I felt his hand lay on my shoulder, gently easing me away from Malik. I looked up at him, tears in my eyes._

_"No, daddy!" I wailed. "We can't let them! We can't them do this to him! Please, daddy!"_

_"There's nothing we can do, Ryou," my father whispered softly, looking at me sadly. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."_

_"Daddy, please!" I cried, clutching onto Malik harder. "Please!"_

_"I'm sorry, Ryou," Father whispered, squeezing my shoulder gently. "But we can't stop his father from doing this. I know it's wrong but…"_

_"We have to stop them!" I cried, tearing away from Malik and away from Father's grip. Driven by my desperation and fear, I began to plummet my hands against one of the robed figures. I distinctly heard my father crying out for me to stop and Malik sobbing harder, before something grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. Something dull but heavy came crashing down my head, and I felt blood ooze down my temple. _

_When I had opened my eyes, Malik was looking at me with horror, tears welling in his eyes. My father as holding me protectively, as the room around us spun dizzily. _

_"Don't you dare do that again!" my father yelled angrily. Angrily? Father was never angry._

_"You hurt Ryou!" Malik cried. "You hurt Ryou! Get away from them!"_

_"Sorry," muttered one of the robed figures, and without a word, they quickened their pace, with Malik swiveling around to look at me. _

_For a moment, his hair rose towards the heavens, and an Eye of Ra appeared on his forehead. His eyes no longer held tears; instead, they stared at me, large and wide, with worried lavender in their amethyst depths. I felt Father pick me protectively, before the room went dizzy, and then black._

_Despite the fact that I was unconscious, I could still hear Malik's screams of pain._

_When I woke up, I was lying on a bed. My head felt thick and dull, and it hurt to move it. Dad was sitting next to me on the bed, looking pale and worried. Poor Dad. He must've thought I was going to die. And I knew how much that would hurt him._

_"Ryou," he said, looking relieved as he brushed my hair away. "How are you?"_

_I coughed, my head swimming, before I nodded weakly. "Where's…where's Mah..rik?"_

_"He's right beside you," Father assured. He laid his hand upon my own._

_That's when I realized that my hand was already being held, in a small grasp of Malik's, despite the fact he was on the other bed. He was regarding me worriedly, before he squeezed my hand hard. I blinked._

_"You okay?" Malik asked. _

_I swallowed. "Yeah…I'm fine…"_

_It was then I realized that Malik was different. He was calm, composed, even a little cold. His eyes sparkled slightly, giving it the appearance of amethyst jewels. His golden hair flew into the air, like a lion's mane, and upon his forehead, was a glowing Eye of Ra._

_"Mah…lik…are you okay?" I cried out, tears prickling against my eyes as I gripped his hand tighter. "Oh, MahLik, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't stop them, I couldn't stop them…"_

_"Ryou," Marik whispered. He laid his other hand on my own, immediately calming me down. "Call me Marik."_

_"Mah…rik?" I repeated. "But…but…"_

_Marik smiled. "Just call me Marik." He looked away, before he spoke again. "I'm sorry too, Ryou. I should've stopped them from hurting you like that. You could've died."_

_"You could've died too!" I cried out. "Oh, Marik, it's not your fault! It's not your fault! I should've helped you, I should've been there for you and protected you and…" At this point, I began to bawl, tears streaming down my cheeks as I felt my father gently wrap his arms around my shoulders, in effort to comfort me. Crying still, I got up, wishing to be next to Marik's side, when my vision blurred, and I landed on my knees by his bedside._

_Faintly, I felt his fingers brush against my bangs, wiping them away. As I continued to sob, Marik's fingers attempted to calm me down, wiping away my tears, before tucking my hair behind my ears. _

_"Don't cry, Ryou," Marik said. "Don't cry."_

_"I'm…I'm sorry," I sobbed, hiccupping. "But…but…you're hurt…you're so hurt!"_

_Faintly, I felt his hand sooth into my hair, before cupping my cheek. Blinking, I opened my eyes, and saw that he was smiling weakly. Gently, he dragged his hand down my cheek, before laying a finger on my lips, and whispered, _

_"Don't cry, Ryou," he said. "I promise I'll always protect you. If anyone ever hurts you again, they'll just have to deal with me. I promise I won't ever let anyone hurt you again. Especially not in my stead."_

I shot my eyes open, blinking as my heart raced. What on earth? Why was I dreaming about my times with Marik? And why did I keep on doing it?

Bolting upright, I put a hand over my thumping heart, my head feeling strangely

dizzy. Usually my Angel was the one who visited me at night, as he did so every other night before, but this time, my dreams were filled with not my Angel in a mask , but of Marik…and why Marik?

"Ryou! Ryou!"

"What? What? Huh?" I mumbled, blinking and shaking my head. Instantly, Yugi came into view, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ryou! Oh, Ryou-kun, come! They've posted the roles!"

"What?" I cried. "Really?"

"Yes! Oh, come, Ryou-kun, you're going to be so pleased!" Yugi cried, grabbing my wrist. Ignoring the fact that I was still clad in pajamas, Yugi leapt off out of the dormitory, dragging me with him, one slipper dangling from my fleeing foot. Within a few more instant, we arrived at the doors of the auditorium, where a large group of nightgown and pajama clad students were gathered around.

Halting, I immediately felt my heart race and butterflies flitter into my stomach. What on…what on earth was it going to say? What role did I get? Did I get one at all?

Suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around, startled. However, I was even more surprised when I saw that it was no other than Marik standing right before me, staring down at me with his amethyst eyes. Feeling dizzy, I swayed, but was caught in time in his arms.

"Congratulations," he said, smiling, as he helped me to my feet. "I'll see you on opening night." And without further ado, Marik had captured my lips in a sweet and fast and chaste kiss.

Before I could possibly even regain my composure, Marik had left my side, and had disappeared down the corridors.

"Come on, Ryou!" Yugi called, grabbing my wrist and dragging my rather comatose state into the crowds. "Oh, come on Ryou, you must see this!"

Shaking my head to dismiss the shock I just received, I followed after Yugi, until we had wormed our way to the front of the crowd. There before me, taped to the oak doors, was a long sheet of paper, where names were listed and parts were planned.

Taking my breath, I scanned my eyes up the list, expecting my name to be with one of the more minor roles. The list went as followed:

**Male Chorus of the Opera Populair:**Kiechi Ayato

Gregrend Mund

Lucas Malfoi

Arthur Watts

Shigure Yohso

Taro Juko

Mako Tsunami

Mano Hierichi

YUGI MOTOU

"Oh my goodness, congratulations, Yugi!" I cried, sweeping my friend into a tight embrace. "Oh, congratulations!"

"There's more," Yugi rasped out happily, since my embrace was far too tight. "Read on."

I skipped the unimportant ones, and headed towards the main characters.

**Meg Giry:**Anzu (Tea Gardener)

**Ubaldo Piagni:**Rex Raptor

**Madame Giry:**Isis Ishtal

**Carlotta Giudicelli:**Mai Valentine

"Oh my goodness! Anzu! Isis! And Mai!" I cried out. "This is wonderful!"

"Read on!" Yugi squealed. "See what Honda and Jonouchi got!"

Laughing, I continued the list.

**Monsieur Andre: **Jonouchi Katsuya (Joey Wheeler)

**Monsieur Firmin: **Honda (Tristan Taylor)

"OH MY GOODNESS!" I cried out once more. "Andre and FIRMIN! No way!"  
" I KNOW!" Yugi squealed with me. "I KNOW! That's so weird! But wait till you see YOURS, Ryou-kun!"  
Giggling, I scanned my eyes back up the list, reaching towards the top. I had not seen my name yet…

**Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny: **Ryuijji Ootogi (Duke Devlin)

**Christine Daae: **Serenity Katsuya (Serenity Wheeler)

My mouth dropped open when I reached the Phantom's name. No way. No way. There was not…there was not a power in this world…no way!

Was that why Marik kissed me? Was that why he was so pleased to see me? Was that why he congratulated me, because both of us shared the love of my father's tales of the Opera Ghost?

I almost fainted.

**The Phantom of the Opera: **Ryou Bakura

* * *

yeaah, got confused with the english names and the japanese names, so i merged them together. there we go! all happy now!

AL is tired. (snores) Oh wait, how unladylike of me! (snores French style if thats even possible)

Surprised, anyone? look Ryou san is The Phantom of the Opera! XD


	5. Angel Abandonment

Boring chapter, but I'm trying to think of anything else I have to get rid off before some music comes into play.

Btw, I have no idea if what Kaiba says in French is accurate. I hada 75 percent in french, so forgive me for my terrible grammar.

The part where Ryou's Angel gets mad at him...oi, Phantom fans! Does it not sound familiar when Erik first left Christine? XDD

Eyuch. Hated this chapter. Mano reminded me of Gaston, and I burst out in laughter. I only updated today cause someone on my Hui Xie account told me to. XDD

READ AND REVIEW! If I don't forget anything else, the next chapter will have some music in it. Which ones? "Angel of Music." And the chapter after that? "The Mirror" and "Phantom of the Opera"!

* * *

Chapter Five: Angel Abandonment

"Tan, tan tan tan…_those who tangle with Don Juan!" _

"Non, non, _non,_" ushered Madame Giry, waving her hands delicately in front of Rex's face. "Non no, it's, 'those who tangle with Don JUAN…'"

"What difference does it make?" Rex asked, annoyed. "Piangi's supposed to suck."

Madame Giry paused for a moment, before looking thoughtful.

"True," she admitted, before walking off the stage. Stopping short at the sets, she looked up towards the ceiling, where black metal rails were, so that the chandelier could be in easy reach, where I was sitting. "Monsieur Bakura!"

Sighing, I looked down from my seat on the metal railing, smiling at her below me. "Oui, Madame Giry?"

She smiled at my attempt at French. "Remember, Ryou…it's ze steps on stage right zat you take to come down for ze Don Juan scene…not ze othair."

"I know," I said, nodding vigorously.

"And ze othair on the othair side," she continued, "lead to ze balcony on ze outside of ze building. Ze fire escape is on stage left!"

"Got it," I replied, shooting her a thumbs-up. She replied with a wide smile.

"You will make us proud, Monsieur Bakura," she said sincerely. "I know you will."

And she left, black skirt swishing gracefully from side to side behind her.

I sighed dreamily, still quite still in disbelief that I had managed to get into the play. Oh, how wonderful did it feel, singing among those who loved to sing with me, who appreciated my voice, who waved at me and punched me lightly in the shoulders.

And my Angel. Oh, my Angel. How he visited me the days and nights following, his voice whispering into my ears, his masked face and long white hair materializing before me in my dreams. As each night passed, my longing to see him again increased, and often, I would find myself wishing and thinking of ways to prolong my lessons with him. Now he had gone from self-confidence boosting to self-defense, something that I prided myself in.

Granted, sometimes when he attacked, so I could learn first hand, I'd receive injuries from either being too slow or too clumsy, but after the lesson, he'd sit next to me in that fire-lit room, and bandage my wounds, holding my wrists with such gentle softness. After that, sometimes we'd engage in conversations, and it was during those times that I loved him the most…

It was also during those times had I noticed his demeanor altered slightly when he was more relaxed. When he was not teaching, he was so much softer, gentler, and much more serene. It was during these valuable moments together that I found out a little more about him. Yet, his change in attitude did not deter me from loving him so.

I would've given him anything. Anything at all. He had done so much for me, and yet I had nothing to give him in return. I would've given him anything he wished, anything he asked, if only he would promise me to stay by my side forever.

I would give him anything…

_"Ryou," my Angel spoke, his voice soft and crisp. "You are bleeding."_

_Smiling weakly, I grabbed my hand in futile attempt to hide the blood that was slowly oozing out of a bruise. Knowing that it had not much affect, I decided to hide it behind my back, lowering my eyes towards the ground._

_"It is nothing, Angel."_

_He stepped towards me, his black cloak swishing behind him. Distinctly, I found myself staring rather intently on the bloodstains that speckled the carpet…was I really bleeding that badly? Had my coordination been that terrible?_

_Softly, my Angel slipped a single, gloved finger beneath my chin, and directed my eyes into his._

_Such dark mysterious eyes! A deep, rich brown that glittered crimson against the roaring fire beside us. His eyes were so deep, so mesmerizing, that I could almost feel them piercing through me, analyzing me, while I merely stood there, immobilized and utterly captivated._

_"You are hurt," he said simply, dropping his hand to his side. "Forgive me."_

_I hastily shook my head. "No no…it's fine, Angel, truly. It's my fault, I wasn't fast enough."_

_Yet, he did not reply, merely gently taking my hand from behind my back, and slowly making way towards the crimson, plush recliner on the side of the room. I stared at him curiously, but he heeded me no attention._

_The room with the fire had been the only room I was ever in. Often before, he spoke of a labyrinth beyond the wooden door that was always closed. Though he told me I was free to wander about and take a look, after one peek from the door I had decided not to do it again._

_It was so boring, after all. It was an empty labyrinth. And while I was assured that there were more than just empty air between the dark corridors, I had dared not venture forth, afraid that I'd be separated from my Angel and be lost forever._

_"Sit," he said simply, and I obeyed, the cushioned material squeaking beneath me._

_Without another word, my Angel had pulled out a roll of gauze from beneath the couch, and unrolled it. Placing the rolled portion in the recliner, he proceeded to gently wrap my bloody arm with the white material. As he worked silently on one knee before me, my hand couldn't help but lay upon the upright one._

_He blinked momentarily, as I had never touched him before. Blushing, I turned away, holding out my arm limply and obediently, hoping that my cheeks weren't as red as they felt._

"_Congratulations, by the way," my Angel spoke up. His voice had always been soft, and slightly cool and crisp, like lake water against an autumn day._

_I blinked. "On what, Angel?" _

_He looked up at my briefly, shielded by his white bangs. He turned back to his work._

"_On the audition, of course. I am proud that you made it."_

_My heart elevated. "Really?" I asked, my eyes wide from his praise._

_He nodded, barely looking at me, almost finishing aiding my wound. _

_I smiled shakily, unable to quite describe the joy I had of him being so proud of me._

_Granted, he probably wasn't 'so proud', but just hearing such words made my heart fly on white wings. _

_"T-Thank you, Angel," I mumbled, still in a trance. "I am honoured that you feel that way."_

_He slowly stood up, brushing his gloved hands against his thighs, as though dusting off invisible grim from his pants. Putting the gauze away, he finally looked at me, and reached out to feel my hair._

_"And I am honoured you feel pleased, Little Ryou," he said softly._

_I couldn't help but smile. As his gloved hands made move to sweep my locks away, they dropped abruptly to his sides, as though he dared not to touch me. _

_Blushing somewhat and looking away, I shifted my gaze to the floor, feeling rather awkward._

_"Aah…Angel…"_

_"Sing."_

_I looked up at him abruptly, my eyes a little wide at such a quick request. _

_"Ahh…excuse me?"_

_He looked at me again, before sitting down against on edge of the recliner. "Sing."_

_I blinked at him again, before I slowly broke out into a grin._

_And sang._

"It is the patron!"

Suddenly, I jolted out of my trance again, almost falling off the metal railing. Heart beating rapidly, I hurried down one of the steps, meeting with the rear of a rather large crowd of the cast members.

"Monsieur Kaiba, we are glad for you to have finally joined us," Madame Giry greeted, curtsying.

I craned my neck, then sighed exasperatedly. Shaking my head at my ignorance, I ran back up the steps and began to lean over the side of the metal railing again. I cocked an eyebrow at the sight.

"We cannot express our gratitude, Monsieur Kaiba," Madame Giry said again, curtsying so. "With ze donations of ze deceased Monsieur Bakura and Monsieur Ishtal, I could not have believed that even you would donate…"

"I have always been a patron of the arts," said Kaiba crisply.

I looked down inquiringly. Indeed, this was a man I had never seen before. There were rumors that he had once attended this very school a few years ago, and that he had always been at least three years ahead. Could it be the infamous Seto Kaiba?

If it were so, then the school would be very honoured to have Seto come back and donate such a large sum of money. Seto Kaiba had made quite a name for himself out of school. A CEO for his own company and the monarch of stocks, he had almost been sued last year for having a monopoly of high-class technology toys.

Kaiba looked about, his dark hair in his piercing eyes, as he surveyed his surroundings. For some secret reason, I was glad that I was so high above…I would hate to have those intimidating eyes at me.

"Intriguing," Kaiba said expressionlessly. He turned back to Madame Giry. "And when will the theatre be opening for the production?"

"In three weeks' time, Monsieur Kaiba," Madame Giry said promptly. "Will you be attending?"

He gave her a small smirk.

"_Oui, Madame Giry. Je dois regarde le 'Phantome de Opera."_

I could've sighed out loud right then and there. I never liked French very much.

However, Madame Giry was ecstatic about it.

"Of course you must watch, Monsieur Kaiba!" she exclaimed. "We 'ave ze best Phantom in ze school, Monsieur Kaiba. I take it that you 'ave 'eard of Monsieur Bakura's son, ze young Ryou Bakura?"

Kaiba shook his head. "I have not, Madame. But indeed, I will find out for myself. No sense in spoiling the surprise."

Madame Giry laughed. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Very."

Without another word, the infamous CEO turned about, heading his way out. As he passed, white leather jacket billowing behind him, Mai swayed her hips suggestively, her feathered hat just tickling the bangs of Kaiba's hair. He gave her a look, and then promptly left.

* * *

Rehearsal had ended, and, as usual, I took refuge in the museum.

Madame Giry had given me permission for any future needs, and all the teachers already knew of my reputation to know I was allowed in there unsupervised. And for that, I was very glad. I never liked examining things so intently with others around me.

"How was rehearsal?" asked Rishid as he came up behind me. His facial expression was the usual: blank, expressionless and perhaps even stony. But I could see that his eyes were warm, and that he was genuinely interested for my well-being.

"Good, good," I said, nodding happily. I sighed wistfully, my eyes wandering about. They finally came to a rest upon the ancient parchment in the glass case. "Rishid…who wrote this?" I asked, pointing to it.

Barely even blinking, Rishid leaned over my shoulder. Taking merely one look, he shook his head, and turned away.

"I believe it is part of a myth, Master Ryou," Rishid said simply. "It is rumored that the ancient Thief King was once a servant at the palace of the Pharaoh, but was disgraced because of his appearance. Beyond that, I am not sure of the tale."

"I knew that," I said. "And then he befriended someone, didn't he? It's just that…" I frowned, struggling to remember whom the bandit had fallen in love with. There were so many variations my father had told me. A princess, a servant, a slave…

Abruptly, Rishid took my arm, and led me towards the doors. Startled out of my thoughts, I looked back at him, blinking to show my confusion.

"It is time for bed, Master Ryou," Rishid said simply. "You have had a long day, and I do believe you should rest your wound."

Blushing, I quickly hid my bandaged hand into my pocket. "Really, it's nothing, Rishid," I assured. "It's just a small cut."

Rishid's face was grave. "Are you sure, Master Ryou? Perhaps I ought to accompany you to your room…"

"No, it's perfectly fine," I insisted. Rishid sighed.

"Alright then. But Little Ryou, if there is any trouble at all, do not hesitate to come alright?"

I blinked. Rishid hardly ever called me "Little Ryou" unless it was something personal. My silent question was answered when Rishid gave me a pointed look.

"Do you remember the last time that bullies had picked on you?"

Inwardly, I winced. Yes. I did remember. I remembered how I lay in the sand, crying because Amane had died, crying because I was alone. How Marik saved me from the teenaged boys who wanted to throw me into the Nile.

Yes, I remembered.

_I lay crying upon the sand, tears spilling from my squeezed eyelids as I clutched my scarf madly to my chest. Amane was dead…she was dead! This was not possible! First Mother, then Amane…!_

_Wailing, I slumped against the ground, happy for the isolation of the Egyptian desert. There was no one there to bother me, to mock me, and ironically, no one to comfort me._

_My father was still down in the labyrinth, having no idea that I had run away. Marik had been asleep in bed. The Ishtal father had died…Marik had killed him a few months before in attempt to save me. Such an act had brought families against the Ishtal clan, and many eyes had sent me deadly looks since then._

_To them, I was an omen. A symbol of misfortune._

_Thinking about Marik made me wail again. More tears cascaded down my face, soaking the sand as I huddled to myself, clutching the scarf that Mother had made for me so long ago._

_"Aw, does the little baby need his mommy?"_

_Blinking, I opened my eyes, and to my horror, seven teenaged boys cowered above me. The sun behind them sent frightening shadows across their dirty faces, making it very difficult to tell from one brown boy to the other. Each of them was caked with mud and sand._

_One of them leered at me, and cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Has little baby been bad and needs his mommy?"_

_Another leered the same way, before kicking me sharply in the back. "Has little baby been bad and needs a spanking?"_

_I whimpered, partly in fear and partly because my spine was stinging badly. Without any warning, two of them had grabbed my wrists and held me high, dangling me above the ground. Crying out, I thrashed and thrashed, screaming for anyone to help._

_No one came._

_Eyes flashing with hate and treacherous smirk in place, the tallest one of the boys advanced upon me. After one moment of his amber eyes, his hand swiped out, and wrenched my scarf away from me. More tears pooled down my cheeks and I struggled to get to my scarf. It was the only possession I had of my mother left, and I could not let them tear it away from me!_

_"No! No, please!" I cried out. "Please give that back to me!"_

_"Hmn, let me think," the tallest one hummed thoughtfully, as he waved the scarf about. "…No."_

_"Please!" I cried. "Please give it back to me! I'll do anything!"_

_The tallest one raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Anything?"_

_I sobbed. "Yes! Please, just give it back!"  
The tallest boy smirked. "Very well." He snapped his fingers._

_Instantly, I was thrown to the ground, and without any further ado, feet and fists massacred my sides and stomach. I cried out in agony and attempted to curl back into my defensive ball, but the seven teens merely stepped on my wrists and ankles, keeping me flat on my back._

_Many hands whipped my head back and forth, and my cheeks were bleeding from their rough treatment. More feet stabbed themselves into my ribs, and even more fists planted themselves onto my stomach. A sharp pain in the head told me that someone had stabbed their foot there, and warm, sticky liquid began to dribble into my hair. _

_"Little bitch," one snapped. "Go back from where you came from!"_

_"Yeah, we don't want you here, little baby!"_

_"Get out of here! You ruined the Ishtal clan, you little demon child bastard!"_

_More verbal abuse assaulted my ears, and I could do nothing as they beat me further into unconsciousness. More so, my heart ached even more to hear that I had hurt Marik in any way._

_A ripping noise startled me, and I stared in utter shock as the tallest boy planted his heel into my stomach, and held the bloody scarf above my head. Slowly, tauntingly, he began to rip it. I stared in horror as I watched the little seam rip and break apart, a small river against my precious scarf…_

_"NO! NO PLEASE!" I screamed. "No! Please! DON'T RIP IT!"_

_"Fine then," the tallest boy sneered. "I'll just put it here then…" Deceivingly gentle, he began to wrap the scarf around my throat, tying it lightly into a knot. I sobbed again, but was thankful that he had given back my scarf._

_That is, until my windpipe began to close, and I realized distinctly that he was choking me with my very own scarf!_

_"No! Please! Let go!" I cried, but my plead only came out as a choked croak. "Please! Pleas let me go!"_

_"No one will miss you," my attacker sneered idly. "You're just this little English boy. Who'd miss you? Not Marik."_

_This thought only made me sob harder, though my vision began to blur. Blood surged to my head, causing me to feel dizzy, despite the fact I was immobile on the ground. My breath was stopped short, and I desperately attempted to untie my scarf that he was pulling on, but to no avail. My hands were still beneath the feet of my other six attackers._

_Just when my face felt as though it was about to combust, when someone yelled, "GET OFF OF HIM!"_

_Suddenly, my throat cleared and the pressure upon my ankles and hands were lifted. _

_I could hardly remember what happened then. My vision kept on blurring out on me, and it was very difficult to breathe. My cheeks felt so swollen, and my hands and ankles seemed to lack blood. My lips felt bruised and puffy, and my ribs and stomach were throbbing hard._

_Distinctly, I felt blood splatter upon me, little flecks of crimson, before all was silent. Within moments, Marik's concerned face appeared before me. _

_"Ryou! Ryou, are you alright?"_

_Within a haze, I felt him gently lift me into his arms, his amethyst eyes shining so with worry. His hands were wet and sticky and warm, but I wasn't sure with what, until I opened my eyes fully and saw the red smears on his face._

_Blood._

_I merely whimpered, but he understood. Gently, he hugged me close to him, and carried me back to the underground labyrinth that I had learned to call my home._

I shuddered. Yes, indeed I remembered that day. How after I had awoken, my father had told me that Marik was under questioning for killing one of the boys, and putting the other six in a coma or a concussion. How my stomach twisted at the idea that Marik would leave me forever, and how my heart was lifted, despite my battered chest, when he came back and said everything was okay.

I could see why Rishid was worried about my well-being, especially with Marik, full-grown and one of the strongest people I knew alive. He'd be furious if he found out I was still being picked on. He'd even kill Hirutami if he had the chance….

At that moment, I was so glad that my Angel had been teaching me to defend for myself. I didn't want Marik to go on any more homicides for my sake.

"I'm fine, Rishid," I assured seriously. "I have been taking lessons, and I know how to defend myself."

"You sure?" Rishid asked, his amber eyes watching me intently.

Smiling, I positioned myself and raised my fists. "Go on. Throw a punch."

His eyes widened, before one eyebrow was lowered with uneasy apprehension. "Uh…Master Ryou, are you sure?"

I smiled. "Of course! Come on! I won't be hurt! Just throw a punch."

Glancing at my determined look, Rishid hesitantly raised a hand, and blindly threw it at me.

Immediately, my newly developed reflexes kicked in, and I smoothly grabbed his wrist. Another swift maneuver, and his arm was behind his back, held there at a painful angle. He gave out a little gasp of surprise and I released my grip. Turning back, he blinked at me in surprise, one had rubbing his wrist, before he broke out into a smile.

"You have been learning, Master Ryou," he said, grinning ruefully. "Let's just hope I won't be his master's punching bag from now on."

My face took place with aghast. "Of course not!"

Rishid laughed. "I know. You may have gotten stronger, Little Ryou, but your heart is still as soft as it ever was." He smiled and slapped my back. "Okay. Now this means I can go to bed early without having to escort you."

I laughed as well, and gave him a playful push towards the side museum door.

"Oh, go home, Rishid. Stop teasing me," I laughed. He snickered.

"Will his master's aim be better as well?"

"RISHID!"

* * *

After a few more teases and even a few more light punches, Rishid had finally ushered me out of the museum. Night had fallen, and the corridors were empty and dark. The tiles were cold and crisp, that with every step I took, my footsteps echoed against the walls.

I had not even come close to the grand stairway, when someone crashed into me, and clamped a hand over my mouth. Terrified, I opened them, and was even more petrified when I saw black pools staring back.

Mano.

Such a ruthless man. He was known to tough, the kind of guy to slink through alleyways and break a nose with just a finger. His slick black hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back, hanging off his leather jacket. His cheekbones were high and his figure was manly: strong, hard, and tough.

"Uh…hi, Mano," I said shakily, attempting at a smile. "Is there something you need?"

He glared at me, before pushing me hard into the wall. I squeaked, but immediately felt ashamed that I had shown weakness. I needed more practice with my Angel.

"You," Mano hissed. "You sneaky little… how could a little twerp like you end up with the role of Phantom?"

I blinked. Was Mano my understudy? Oh yes. Just like Mai was with Serenity.

Oh boy.

"I-I don't know," I stuttered. "Really, I don't."

Mano made a face, before harshly pushing me into the wall, and then straightening. He glared at me for a couple of moments, before he turned away and headed down a corridor.

"Take this as a warning, Bakura," he hissed. "Mai was supposed to be Christine. I was supposed to be Phantom. I have high guys in high places, Bakura. You don't want to mess with them."

I swallowed, but nodded hastily.

"Be sick on opening night," he snapped. "You're a good actor. Be sick, or else I'll make you sick."

He walked on for a few more moments, before stopping at a corner. Turning back slowly, he sneered at me arrogantly, tossing his slick black hair over his shoulder. I swallowed.

"Break a leg," he smirked.

* * *

Moments later, I managed to return to my corridor. Mano had frightened me terribly. The boy was so huge! It was possible to fit three of me into his chest! I winced at the thought of his fists cracking into me. I didn't even think my Angel could save me from him.

"Ryou."

Hearing my name, I jumped and looked back, frantically wondering if it was another attacker. To my relief, and to my joy, it was Marik, standing by the corner of the corridor.

I smiled. "Marik! Hi! It's been so long since I've seen you! I've missed you!"

A faintest trace of a smile hinted on Marik's expression, as he began to stride forwards. " Have you?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Grinning, I leapt into the air. Expecting this, Marik instantly wrapped his arms around my waist, and began to spin me like he did when I was younger. This time, a true smile lit up on his face, as he twirled me through the air, only ceasing when I ran out of breath from laughter.

I grinned up at him, and threw my arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you came back!"

Marik smirked, one arm wound around my waist. "Do you want to go out for a coffee?" he asked. His smirk widened, and he nuzzled my nose. "Or in your case…hot chocolate?"

"And a frappacino if I'm daring," I giggled. I was about to open my mouth to say yes…when…

_"Leave him be,"_ my Angel hissed. "_Are you willing to break your vow, Little Ryou?"_

Instantly, my eyes widened, and, with fear of losing my Angel, I quickly jumped out of Marik's embrace.

"Oh, n-no, I can't…" I stuttered, in desperate avail to beg my Angel's forgiveness.

Marik raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

I shook my head. "I-I can't…it's..it's…" My mind reeled frantically with desperate ideas. "It's too late!" I said quickly. "We have curfews, and I already broke one a few weeks ago, and I really don't want to break another one again." I took a deep breath. That should do.

Marik continued giving me his scrupulous look. "You broke a curfew?" he asked in disbelief. He smirked again, wrapping both his arms around me. "Sweet Little Ryou, a good little boy, broke a curfew by going out at night? My, how much you've changed!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Marik! That's not it!" When my laughter trailed off, I my gaze shifted away from him, staring at the floor. I didn't want Marik to go…but if it was needed for my Angel to stay…

"Marik…you should go," I said weakly. "If the teachers catch me like this, I'm bound to be in trouble."

Marik's smirk turned into a wryly smile. "So my Little Ryou hasn't changed much at all. Very well then." At this, Marik straightened confidently, and raised my chin up towards his face. Though despite my promise to my Angel, my heart began to quicken, beating rapidly against my ribcage as Marik's breath swept across my lips. "Give me a good night kiss, then?" he asked softly.

Oh those eyes…those beautiful eyes….so captivating and so full of adoration and love…my father used to call us childhood sweethearts. Would we ever be so like that again?

For a fleeting moment, I wanted that kiss more badly than I wanted my Angel.

Yet, I opened my mouth to protest; remembering my Angel's words. I would have to keep my promise to him.

"M-Marik…I…"

But Marik cut me off first.

Half my heart lifted with absolute joy and excitement, as his lips brushed against mine and clasped over my own. Yet, the other half of my heart tore and broke apart in a mad frenzy to get him away. My Angel would be furious!

Halfway through the kiss, I broke it off as fast as I could, stumbling towards the door.

"N-no…no…Marik, I have to go!"

He gave me a look of confusion and alarm. "Ryou?" he asked, as I managed to fumble around with the handle and open the entrance. I hurriedly ran in, stopping only to give Marik a fake, cheerful smile.

"Goodnight!" I called, and quickly shut my door.

* * *

Shaking terribly, I slid down from the door and onto the carpet. What would my Angel say? I didn't mean to! I had tried so vainfully to control myself, but I hadn't done it on purpose!

Shivers ransacked my spine as I could almost feel my Angel's presence above me. Another moment passed, before his voice filled the room, loud and chamberous, cold and hissing.

"_You broke your vow, Little Ryou…"_

Scrambling to my feet, I fell to my knees, clasping my hands together in prayer.

"No, Angel! Please! Don't leave me! I promise I will never do such a thing again!"

Tears started to run down my cheeks. The fear of my Angel abandoning me was too much! I'd be alone again!

"No, Angel! Please! I beg of you! Don't leave me! I love you!"

Silence filtered into my room, and I prayed hard on bended knees for him not to forsake me. The tears would not cease; continuing to dribble down my cheeks and onto the carpet of my dormitory.

"Please, Angel…" I whispered. "Don't leave me…I love you…"

Another silence slithered by, before my Angel finally spoke. This time, his voice was cold and hard, biting and cruel.

_"I shall think about it. Go to sleep, Ryou."_

Choking back a sob, I scrambled obediently to my bed. My shoulder shook with sobs as I realized that this had been the first night he had not called me, 'Little Ryou.' Sobbing quietly, I determinedly brushed away my tears. My Angel did not like to see me cry. Determined to be strong and wait for my Angel's judgment, I folded the covers above myself.

That night, I slept in utter agony. He did not appear to me in my dreams, and the Sennen Ring did not glow comfortingly in the darkness.

My Angel did not sing me to sleep.

* * *

T.T Can you guys guess who the Angel is now? I think I've made it quite clear. (Is proud) Can't wait for the next chapter. Finally, some music!


	6. Opening Night

Answers to reviewers!

Fluffys-sidekick: Yes, indeed, I have read the book and seen the movie. Sadly, I have not seen the play, simply because the last time it was shown in my city I was …four. So….(sighs heavily) BUT I WOULD LOVE TO! Especially if it was Michael Crawford!

Oh, yes, the book. Ahh….which book? There are two: One called "The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leruex (which I LOATHE, LOATHE, I say…! …bad characterization of Erik..) and there's one called "Phantom" by Susan Kay (which I LOVE LOVE LOVE! PERFECT CHARACTERIZATION! She doesn't even make Raoul sound as much of a nancy pancy hoot has in Gaston Leruex's version!). I've read both, though I ultimately prefer Phantom more. Which one have you read?

Bellebelle3: If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have updated today. Thank you so much! (And reviewers, thank her too!) (glares)

* * *

Chapter Six: Opening Night

Distinctly, the overview song was playing in the auditorium, echoing the drums and the organs through the room. Crowds of actresses and dancers and singers shuffled about like mad, some looking disheveled and others daintily running about on tip-toes. Three hours before the play was supposed to begin, and already, the entire cast was at a point of nervous breakdowns.

I found it rather amusing though. It made me smile at how, despite how disarranged everyone looked, shuffling about and whatnot, was that the entire scene before me was how the play was supposed to begin _with._ A chaotic mass of people getting ready for a play.

"Ah, Mai, don't put the chains on so tight!" Serenity chided from the back. "I'm supposed to move in them!"

"Oh, sorry," Mai said, a pin sticking from her mouth. "Hold on. This better?"

Serenity shook her wrists a bit, and smiled. "Yes. Thank you." Seeing me, she waved her hand, chains tinkling lightly. "Ryouu!"

I smiled back. "Yes?"

"Nervous?" she asked, rather loudly over the commotion. I gave her a grin.

"A little!"

"Heh, don't worry!" Serenity assured. "You'll do fine! Just don't blush when I kiss you in the end scene."

Ironically, I blushed right then and there.

"Er…I'll try."

"Phantom doesn't blush. He cries."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but smiled all the same. "I know, I know."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," Serenity called again. "At least YOU'RE not wearing something this revealing for the opening scene!"

I had to agree readily with that.

"Monsieur Bakura?" Madame Giry asked, coming up to me. "Would you like to go out for a walk? You're all ready, anywayz."

I smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you. That'd be wonderful."

* * *

The cool, dark air calmed me.

It was opening night. My Angel had returned to me, after a week of abandonment. I could not describe the endless agony I was in that entire week. Every night I would go to sleep without the sound of his voice, and every day I would have to wake to empty air instead of his soft touch.

I hated it. I hated the loneliness he had forced upon me, but I knew it was my punishment. I had betrayed him, I had broken my vow. And yet, he had returned to me, when I should have been suffering my loneliness for all eternity. At least, that's what I felt I deserved.

After that incident, I dared not even look at Marik. Deep within me, I knew there was something drawing me to him, something that captivated me and drew him into his spellbinding arms. Perhaps it was the way his amethyst eyes grew a fond mauve when they rested upon me, or it was the way his golden hair would whip about when he would crane his neck to see me. Either way, every time I looked at him, my heart would speed up, and my breath would be cut short.

I was in love.

I was in love with two different people, and yet, I knew which one my soul belonged to. I felt as though my relationship with Marik was merely a childhood crush, or a teenage lusting, but with my Angel…no. It was something different…something truly magical. Every time my Angel looked at me, every time he raised his gloved hand to brush away my locks…my heart would find its way to my throat, and I would be excited beyond belief.

Every time his white hair brushed against my shoulder, every time his soft, gentle hands would dress my wounds, every time he touched me in any way would drive my heart into an insanity's worth of beating, thumping loudly in my ears. It was almost as though we were bonded by the soul.

After he had returned to me, I made no mistake of neglecting him ever again. Every night I would say, "I love you" to him, before I went to bed, and every time he taught me something new, I would sing for him, whether or not he had requested it. I wanted to show him my full devotion; that I'd be anything he'd wish me to be: student, friend, or anything else.

I was jostled out of my thoughts, however, when I heard a familiar voice call to me. Turning around, I saw Yugi running towards me, his miniature suit fluttering in the wind. I smiled. I couldn't help it. There were times when Yugi looked positively adorable, and judging by the fact his red bow tie was fluttering against his cheeks and his tailcoats were flapping by his ankles, this was no exception.

"Yugi," I greeted, as he came to a panting stop before me. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Yugi panted, wiping sweat off his brow. "Too hot in the auditorium. I saw you walking out, so I decided to come with you."

I smiled. "That's nice of you."

For a while, we merely stood there in silence, taking in each other's presence comfortably. Since both Yugi and I were quite quiet, we hardly ever spoke even around each other, so silence between us wasn't anything surprising.

"Where have you been lately anyways?" Yugi asked, walking a bit forwards.

Smiling, I followed.

"Studying, really."

Yugi laughed. "Really? Gee, Ryou-kun. You study too much. You need to get out a little more."

I sighed. "I know."

After looking at me a bit, Yugi cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. I gave him a curious glance in return.

"Eh? Is there something on my face?"

"Huh? Oh, no!" Yugi laughed. "No. I just…you know Marik, right? Marik Ishtal, the museum patron?"

Tensing slightly, despite my quickening heart, I nodded. "Yeah. What about him?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant. _Please please please please pleeaassee…_I begged in my mind. _Please don't let my Angel be mad at me…_

"He's been looking for you," Yugi said. "Just yesterday he came up to me, and asked where you were. I told him that you were probably studying, since you didn't come out of the dormitory, and then he got all cold and huffy with me."

"He was looking for me?" I asked weakly, as my heart swelled against my will. Yugi nodded.

"Yeah. I think he said something about getting a coffee with you." At this, Yugi paused, staring at me curiously through his large, violet eyes. "He really likes you, I think. And, despite how cold and stone he is, I think he's a real nice guy. Why aren't you talking to him?"

"I…I'm just really busy," I said weakly. "It's nothing…"

Yugi made an odd face. "Well, yeah. But Ryou…you said that he was your first friend. I really think that you ought to see him a bit more. Even though he's really busy, I've heard Isis talk about how he's taking all his free time to find you." Yugi paused, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "If you like him so much, why don't you go see him?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "You make it sound like as if I'm avoiding him on purpose!"

At this, Yugi looked sheepish. "Ah, sorry. Maybe I am, a bit. But I don't know…you used to talk about him a lot, and I was wondering why you weren't talking to him as much lately. He's a real nice guy…well…with you, anyways. He doesn't talk to anyone else."

"Yeah…" I said softly. "He is…really nice."

Seeing my defense finally faltering, Yugi smiled up at me. "Tell me another story? With you and Marik?"

Hearing that, I blushed. However, despite how vainly I attempted to stop my beating heart, I raised my head up to the sky, smiling fondly at the stars.

"Heh…you know…" I said softly, feeling strangely misty as I finally surrendered to the overwhelming lovesick daze that threatened to consume me. "…One time…I had my mother's scarf, you know? It was after Mother and Amane died…I was still crying about them, outside, when no one was looking. After a while, Marik found me, because he had heard that a sandstorm was coming soon."

Yugi looked immediately interested. "And?" he prompted.

I smiled warmly. "Well…by the time he found me…the sandstorm was already close to me. I was sitting on the sand, crying, holding my scarf, next to these wonderful desert flowers. Next thing I knew, my scarf was disappearing into the sandstorm, right when Marik found me."

"And then?" Yugi asked, wide-eyed with interest.

I laughed at his anticipation. "Well, after that, he did something really sweet. I told him that my scarf had been lost in the sandstorm, and immediately, he went right in. I was so shocked, but he told me to stay put, and that he'd get it. While he was getting it, I guess I had picked the flowers to get my mind off about how dangerous it was to go into the sandstorm.

"They were really pretty flowers, you know? Large and purple, liked jeweled amethysts. Just like his eyes. Maybe that's what got me so interested in them. Maybe just by looking at them, they reminded me of him, that he was right by my side. After a while, I guess I had stopped crying, and after the sandstorm stopped, Marik was walking towards me, holding up my scarf triumphantly with the biggest grin on his face!"

Both Yugi and I started to giggle, though I could tell Yugi was impressed by Marik's devotion and care for me. Sighing wistfully, I looked back up at the stars, my hand subconsciously coming up to my neck, where my scarf used to always hang.

"You should've seen him," I laughed quietly, feeling almost teary at the memory. "Twelve years old, coming at me, with all these scratches on his face and sand in his hair, holding up my scarf like as if he had been wrestling a bear for it, or something. He looked so cute."

Yugi giggled. "I can't imagine a guy like him cute," he admitted. "But I guess we all once were, huh?"

Playfully, I laughed and poked Yugi in the nose. "_You _still look like a child!"

Yugi instantly wrinkled his nose and made a disdainful face. "Hey!"

Both of us burst out laughing.

"Wow," Yugi gasped, beaming widely. "That's amazing. He must really care for you to go through a sandstorm like that just for you. I'm not huge on the entire true love thing, but I mean…who else have you got? Maybe you and Marik can really be together."

At this, I blushed terribly, turning my face away shyly. "What makes you think that?" I asked quietly.

"Well," said Yugi, his tone taking a more subdued note. "He cares a lot for you. He protects you. He went out into a sandstorm just to get your scarf. Even though he's busy like heck, he's still trying to find you, to at least say hi." Yugi paused a bit, before he rested a hand on my arm. "He really likes you, Ryou," he said seriously. "I can tell. I don't know why I can, but I can tell. Who else can do that for you?"

"My Angel," I said suddenly, turning to Yugi. "My Angel can."

Yugi gave me an odd look. "Your angel?"

"Yes," I insisted. "Yes. My guardian angel. Like the one my father told me about. My Angel can protect me. He cares for me."

At this, Yugi looked distinctly uneasy. He gave me a strange look as he shuffled upon his feet. I doubt he was even aware of himself doing it.

"Your Angel?"

'Yes," I insisted. "Yes, my Angel. You know, just like when Christine's father promised her an Angel of Music, and he came. Well, my dad promised me a Guardian Angel, and Yugi, he came! He came to me!"

"But…Ryou…your Angel isn't _real,_" Yugi stuttered. "I mean…"

"My father told me that the Sennen Items were real," I said. "Everyone else though it was a legend. But it was true! He got me the Sennen Ring. He got you the Sennen Puzzle! For all we know, the soul of the Nameless Pharaoh can be in there, because _it was true._"

"He's not in there!" Yugi suddenly said, eyes wide. "He's not there at all!"

"Yugi, I know my Angel is real," I insisted adamantly. "I know he is…I just know it…come on, you have to believe me…"

"RYOU! LOOK OUT!"

It had taken me about a minute or so to finally registered what had happened. Before I could even whip around, Yugi had pushed me out of some harm's way, into a nearby alley. Groaning, both of us quickly scrambled to our feet, and instantly, in the darkness of the alleyway, froze and were terrified.

No. It couldn't be. Not now.

Six or so menacing shadows appeared from the darkest corners of the alleyway, approaching us with heavy, punctuated steps. Six more silhouettes then blocked off the alleyway entrance, before all of the dozen unrecognizable shadows began to circle about us.

"Oh no oh no oh no…" I whispered to myself. "Oh no oh no oh no…"

"Oh God…" Yugi breathed, as he backed up into me. "Oh no…Ryou…we're surrounded…"

A low, familiar chuckle echoed from the unrecognizable shadows, and, after a flicker of a lighter, the shadow's face was illuminated. Dirty blond hair, wide, rugged chin, and dazed, dead eyes.

Hirutami.

"Oh no…" I whispered, my knees trembling.

"Remember me?" the older blond smirked, flicking at his cigarette with his thumb. "You should. Then all those memoir bruises would be such a waste."

"Get…get away from us!" I yelled. "Leave us alone!"

"Why would we do that?" Hirutami asked, smirking dumbly as he cocked his head to one side in mock thought. "After all, we were paid big bucks to do this, and it'd be just such a waste."

"Why are you doing this?" Yugi demanded, backing up into me. I could almost feel him trembling against me. "Who paid you?"

"Bakura boy would know," Hirutami drawled, chuckling as he leaned back to observe us. "Does Mano ring a bell?"

My eyes widened. "M-Mano?" I repeated shakily. My eyes widened larger again, if possible, as I was hit with his last words.

_"Be sick on opening night, or I will make you sick."_

Now, as I stared in absolute horror at the man before me, I realized.

"Oh…oh my god…" I whispered.

Hirutami smirked. "That's right," he drawled. "Better start praying." Instantly, he clicked his fingers. "Boys?"

Knuckles cracked, and low chuckles where heard as the circle began to tighten about us. Whimpering, I pressed up hard against Yugi, feeling him shake harder and harder as the group advanced on us.

It was the end. The total total end.

_"Ryou,"_ a voice suddenly hissed in my ear. "_Do not let my lessons become a waste."_

My eyes shot open.

My Angel!

He was there. Somehow, he had kept his promise, and he was with me. Somehow, just the simple sound of his voice brought me strength I never knew I possessed. Somehow, just the breath of his whisper against my skin revealed my hidden courage. Somehow, I was going to make him proud.

With that in mind, I stiffened my fists, and blindly ran into battle.

* * *

Yugi POV.

I stared in dumb shock as the last cigarette was diminished; leaving only a trailing, flitter of a smoke in its wake. The wisp of gray slowly evaporated into the night air, the only thing of color in the dark alley in which I sat, and Ryou stood.

The battle was over.

And Ryou was alive.

Despite the unconscious black sacks that were strewn about me, I could not move a muscle in my frozen body. I merely sat there, my large eyes larger than ever before, utterly shocked and amazed with dumb astonishment.

/How interesting…/

I blinked, startled out of my trance. It was that voice. That wonderful, deep, regal voice that had become my friend.

/Pharaoh-sama/ I asked tentatively back, still staring at the shadow of my friend before me.

/I apologize, Yugi/ was his simple reply.

Shaking, I swallowed hard, weakly using the alley wall for my support. /No..no…it's fine…I still don't know how to give you my body. If I did, maybe you could've done something…/

/I should've, Yugi/ he said apologetically. /Forgive me. But…no. There is something else that's troubling me./

I blinked. /What is it/

There was silence at the end of the link, only broken by his soft voice, quiet and thoughtful as his words were twisted into a melody of wise judgment.

/I've seen those moves before…/

Neither of us spoke for a few moments, merely standing there as we watched Ryou pant for breath before us. I had never seen Ryou so strong before, nor so bold. Not that it scared me…no. Ryou wasn't the one who scared me. I was merely shocked that he could do everything that he did…but no. There was something else.

It felt like a dark presence, a lingering ghost from the galleys of the dead. A spirit from the underworld or a phantom of the night. I shuddered. Whatever that dark presence was, it was near Ryou. It was near us.

/Those moves…/ the voice said quietly, deep and comprehending. /Those moves…those moves that your friend performed…I have seen those before./

/Where/ I asked, curious as I slowly regained composure. /Where? From Egypt/

My answer was only a sad, resigned sigh. /I don't know./

Slowly, Ryou managed to regain his air, and gradually turned towards me. Though his hair seemed a mess, and his face was drenched with sweat, and his knuckles were scraped…on his face there was the happiest smile I had ever seen him smile…. the proudest grin I've ever seen him grin.

And that smile alone, that happy, bright and cheerful smile that I had not seen since his father died, elevated my heart and banished all my worries.

"Ryou-kun!" I cried. "Are you alright?"

Still grinning, he nodded proudly, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. "Yeah…just fine, Yugi. Just fine."

"You…I can't believe it!" I cried out, a grin splitting from my face as well as I lunged at him. "That was amazing! How did you do that!"

Laughing, Ryou grabbed me and hugged me close. As I felt his face being buried into my neck though…I felt tears…though they were tears of joy and laughter. His happy, choked laughs were muffled against my tuxedo, but after a moment, we separated, and Ryou wiped away at his eyes.

"I…don't know," he whispered, still smiling with pride. "Practice, I guess."

"But that was amazing!" I cried again. I held up my fists. "You have to teach me some time! But did you have to hurt them?"

At this, Ryou blushed. "I didn't mean to…" he admitted softly, his blush increasing. "I just…did it. I just wanted to protect us."

Grinning still, I wrapped my arms around him, and after bending down a bit, Ryou returned my hug. We stood there in the alleyway, both of us happy beyond belief at Ryou's accomplishment to defend himself.

It was not until Ryou had checked his watch when we realized that the play had started.

* * *

Ryou POV.

Oh, for the love of… I WASLATE!

My first big production, inspired by my Angel, and I WAS LATE!

Thank goodness I was not on until the second scene. Both Yugi and I had made it by then, though he had missed the first opening overture with the other choir boys. While he was scrambling to improvise a way to perform with the others, I was shuffled to the back, where girls of every shape and size offered to redo my attire.

As soft dainty fingers swept at my wounds and brushed my hair out of my eyes, I could not help but grin all the while. I had finally proved my worth to my Angel. Because of his teachings, he had saved me from my fate. Despite how happy I was, I knew that I was forever going to be in his debt, and that thought did not bother me one bit.

I would've done anything to make my Angel happy.

_"Masquerade…paper faces on parade…masquerade. Hide your face so the world would never find you…"_

I sat upon the stage, black cloak and all, in a large red chair, singing melancholically as music flittered by my ears. The lights were dimmed to give the entire stage a beautiful, wondrous hue, and pale fog wisped past my feet.

Everything was so beautiful!

And, oh, how wondrous did my voice feel…as though it had grown wings and was flying towards the heavens on their own. How my chest swelled with each breath and echoed with each note, how my entire form swayed with the music and the rhythm

I was in love.

And again, like I had told Yugi-tachi once before…every time I heard that one song…at the end of the musical, I cried. And, though I was onstage…because it was this very song…this very song that my father and I used to sing in joy, the very song that Erik sang in grief…I wept.

_"Christine, I loovvveed you…"_

I turned to my left, as I was supposed to, watching Serenity being led away by Ootogi. Though I was supposed to be acting in terrible grief at the lost of my "love", I couldn't help but smile at them. Serenity and Ootogi had always been made for each other.

As they sang their duet, I turned away, as I was supposed to. However, as I did…

In the audience, I saw a pair of deep, amethyst eyes, staring at me from the back. Those same captivating eyes were hidden by golden, sandy bangs, ending with large, golden spikes upon waves.

Marik!

_"You alone can make my song take flight…!"_

Even from the back, I could see his proud smile, his bright eyes, his eyebrows in a seductive nature. Seeing him immediately made my heart soar, and I longed to run off the stage and into his arms.

But…my Angel…

_"It's over now….the music of the…"_

Smiling somewhat disappointedly, I turned away, returning to my role as the Phantom. However, that didn't prevent Marik from attempting to catch my attention. As I turned, he winked at me, and kissed the air, sending me one.

I blushed, but was grateful for his affection none-of-the-less.

Taking a deep breath, I swept out my arms for the audience, and my voice reared upon its talons, spread its wings, and flew into the auditorium.

_"…NIIIIIIGGGGHHHTTTT!"_

* * *

As the candle lit up, I gracefully flicked the stick away, sitting back upon my heels. As I did so, I placed my hands together in front of me, bowing my head towards the statue before me.

The candles danced in the darkness of the little chapel.

The school had a chapel right outside its back walls, since it was used for the younger kids before us to go as Sunday school. And yet, even though it had not been used in many years, except for the truly devoted, I had often come to this little chapel, praying and lighting candles for my father. It was almost my sanctuary.

And now, as the last of the patrons and audience whittled away into the streets and into their cars, I remained upon my knees, praying and thanking to whatever lord that was listening, that my Angel had come and my father was proud.

I remembered…sitting in the churches and singing the hymns…I remembered lighting candles for my mother and my sister. I remembered kissing Marik on the cheek before we left for home, right after we had lighted his entire temple with scented candlewicks.

Candles were beautiful.

And now, as I sat there upon my knees, still praying, still speaking to the holy spirit comfort that I had, I could not help but feel the happiest and the most tranquil than I had ever been in my life.

_My Angel…._

_Thank you so much for my Angel…_

_Guide me, Father…Guide me, Angel…_

As I repeated these words in my mind, a childish voice echoed behind me.

_"Ryou…Ryou…"_

Smiling, I recognized it to be Yugi, as he popped his head in through the wooden doorway of the chapel. I smiled, and Yugi grinned as he slowly made his way towards me.

"_Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were, perfect!"_ Yugi sang, as he sat beside me. He smiled in a secretive way, and I knew he was referring to my incident with the bullies before the play. "_I only wish I knew your secret…who is your new tutor?"_

And distinctly…I heard the soft humming of the violin my father used to play, echoing in the little chapel. Soft and serene, I joined in with the invisible melody, my voice equally soft and equally dreamy.

_"Father once spoke of an angel…_

_I used to dream he'd appear._

_Now as I sing, I can sense him_

_And I know, he's here!"_

Grinning, I stood up, sweeping my hands about the room. I was not sure why I was doing such things, but I knew that it was my heart guiding me, filling me with such a passionate dream that I could not relieve myself of.

_"Here in this room, he calls me softly!_

_Somewhere inside, hiding!_

_Somehow I know, he's always with me…_

_He, the unseen, genius!"_

And yet, despite my eager face, Yugi's fell. As his eyes grew wider with worry, he grabbed my hand, holding it tightly with his concern.

_"Ryou, you must have been dreaming!_

_Stories like this can't come true!_

_Ryou, you're talking in riddles_

_And it's not like you!"_

I merely blinked back, still stunned that Yugi would not believe me of my Guardian Angel.

"Yugi…" I breathed. "He's real. I know he is. When my father died, he promised me the Guardian Angel. I know he did!"

Recklessly, in desperate attempt to show Yugi my Angel, I cried,

"_ANGEL OF MUSIC, Guide and Guardian! Grant to me your glory!_

_ANGEL OF MUSIC! Hide no longer! Secret and strange, Angel!"_

I turned back, my voice soft and pleading, distant and dreamy.

_"He's with me even now…"_

_"Your hands are cold…"_

_"All around…"_

_"Your face, Ryou…its white! It frightens me…"_

Smiling, I turned back to Yugi, my face filled with such distant devotion and compassion that Yugi could only stare at me aimlessly. Smiling still, I laid a hand on his comfortingly, my face still distant and wistful.

_"Don't be frightened…"_ I sang.

* * *

WEE! And it ends in a DISCONCERTING note! Yes!

Finally! Phantom of the Opera and The Mirror will be in the next chapter! AND LEMONY goodness. Not explicit though. This story is more romance than lust. (grins) YAY! Thank you, Bellebelle3!


	7. The Phantom of the Sennen Ring

**Fluffys-sidekick:** Ironic of you to bring the music up! This story is meant to be fallen along with the music. Which means, in order to get the true feelings and emotions of this story, whenever there is music, you guys should listen to it.

**FOR THIS CHAPTER I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU PEOPLE TO LISTEN TO "LITTLE LOTTE…/ THE MIRROR" AND "PHANTOM OF THE OPERA"! HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT. FIND EITHER SONGS AND LISTEN TO THEM IN THE BACKROUND AS YOU READ THIS STORY! **

OKAY! On with my favourite part of the story! FINALLY! SOMETHING OTHER THAN PLOT!

* * *

Chapter Seven: The Phantom of the Sennen Ring

Ryou POV

"Go! Shoo!" scolded Jonouchi, as he waved his hands madly about. A pack of fangirls had herded themselves at my dressing room door, brandishing pens and paper at my face. I couldn't help but blush when a particularly excited girl threw me her towel, which had been scrawled, "I LOVE RYOU BAKURA!" on it. At least they weren't throwing panties at me.

"SHOO!" Jonouchi yelled again, as Honda helped push me through the crowd. "HEY! YOU! GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!"

On the other end of the long hallway, many boys had crowded about Serenity's dressing room, held at bay by Ootogi's brandishing fists and protective snarls. Maybe I should've stayed at the chapel a bit longer…

By the time Yugi and I had stopped discussing about my Angel, we had reckoned that it would be safe to venture forth back to our dressing rooms, as we had not changed yet. He was still skeptic about my Angel, but I could not but help trail my voice into melody at the mention of him. My Angel…my Angel…

Those two words kept rolling off my tongue in creamy phantasm. My Angel. _My _Angel. No one else's.

Finally, we had reached my door, and with a dramatic flourish, Honda practically threw me into my room, feigning heroism as he exaggeratedly wiped at his brow, before sending me a wink and closing my door. Giggling, I turned from the door, but was startled when I saw someone already _in _my room.

Shadi.

There he stood, as usual, emotionless and limp. As he strode forwards, one hand held a single red rose, tied in a neat ribbon by a silken black ribbon. Even in the middle of the black bow, there was embedded a pearl.

Blinking, he glided up towards me, his cerulean eyes staring at me distantly from above, as he raised the thorn-less, lovely rose to my hand. Blinking again, I took it, pressing it to my nose and inhaling its sweet, intoxicating scent.

"From an admirer," Shadi said simply. "Consider it a gift from your Guardian Angel."

At this, my eyes opened wide. "What?" I gasped.

He barely heeded my surprise with a nod. "Your Guardian Angel has requested me to become messenger, and hence, I have given you his gift. He is quite proud, Ryou. Quite."

And without any other further ado, Shadi glided away, almost disappearing through the door.

Blinking my wide eyes, I slowly sat down upon my dressing room chair, holding the rose in my fingers with daze. My Angel…had my Angel truly brought me this wonderful rose, this beautiful, single rose of affection? Was he truly that proud?

As I delicately laid the rose upon my dressing room desk, all the other flowers from other admirers uncountable invisible, a knock came at my door. Blinking, I turned around, watching as the door eased open, and a familiar face peer in.

My heart flew into my throat at the sight my newest newcomer.

"Marik," I whispered breathlessly, a smile spreading across my face. There he was…my childhood friend…

When we had first met, my father accidentally discovering their underground home, we were very young. Barely ten years old, Marik had large, rebellious lavender eyes, beautiful, gold flaxen hair that flew messily into his eyes and spewed over his shoulders. He had been always quite strong, but back then… he was as scrawny as a stick. It was only after his initiation did he act…become…someone different. It wasn't different enough for me to leave him; on the contrary, I had begun to like him more than a friend…After his initiation, his hair shot up in uncontrollable spikes, and he was always frighteningly calm. I had always adored his control over his matters.

He used to protect me….protect me from everything I was afraid of… he was so strong…

And now, as I took a closer look at him, he hardly looked like a once, scrawny rebellious child. Tall, skillfully built, complete with broad chest and firm muscles and biceps, he looked like a god. His hair still shot up towards the heavens in their uncontrollable nature, but they were longer, and a paler shade of gold, reflecting strands of silver among them. His eyes were narrow, stern, mature, and no longer a childish lavender, but a sharp amethyst. I could almost feel my jaw dropping at his transformation.

"Little Ryou, let his mind wander…" Marik sang, a smirk on his face as he closed the door.

"You remember that too…" I said quietly in awe. He continued to smirk, unintentionally making his exotic face all the more alluring. Casually, he strode towards me, singing mockingly, but fondly.

"Little Ryou thought: am I a fonder of dolls…"

I beamed, joining in as he leaned himself against my dresser drawers.

"…or of goblins, or shoes…"

Marik's smirk grew more into a smile as I continued.

"….or of riddles, of frocks…"

Chuckling, Marik gave me a grin, and revealed his hand from behind his back. In his grasp was a large bouquet of flowers, all decoratively arranged in a beautiful assortment. Deep, rich red roses surrounded the outer circle; the inner buds slowly changing shades, from deep crimson to heavenly pink. In the middle, stood, prominently, three, large amethyst desert flowers, the kind that I used to love when I was in Egypt with my father and Marik. He… he had remembered! After all these years!

"Oh, Marik," I breathed, fingering the desert flowers. "Thank you…! They're beautiful!"

Quite frankly, this new bouquet had distracted me from the single, crimson rose that Shaadi had passed onto me.

Marik smirked, looking fondly down upon me as I stuffed my nose in the very middle of the bouquet, breathing deeply. Sweet scents surged my senses and I smiled broadly.

"…Or of chocolates," Marik sang softly. He chuckled, his low voice almost immediately calming my former anxiety. I looked up at him, beaming.

"I can't believe you remembered," I said.

"Did little Ryou forget his scarf in the desert?" Marik teased, fingering my cheek affectionately. He laughed. "Of course I remembered, Ryou. How could I not, after having grains of sand scratched in my eyes and coming home to find you, once crying, then laughing and holding a few, common desert flowers?"

I giggled. "I remember how we used to sit in the cellar…Father playing the violin…"

"As we read to each other dark stories of the Egyptian north…" Marik finished, bending slowly, so that his face was a mere four inches from my own. "You were spectacular tonight, Ryou."

I gave him a modest giggle, and finished the song that my father used to sing to both of us.

"_No what I loved best, Ryou said,_

_is when I'm finally asleep in my bed_

_and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"_

Marik smirked and sang with me: "…_the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"_

Chuckling lowly, Marik pulled me into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzling my neck. I immediately felt my cheeks turn red, but smiled all the same. When he pulled back, he gave me a soft look.

"Your father was so amusing…how he told us about stories from Europe and how we'd tell him stories from Egypt…"

"Yeah," I sighed, laughing, recalling the memories, "and how he used to jump around excitedly when you showed him the Egyptian myths in the hieroglyphics in your texts…"

Marik chuckled, rolling his eyes. He leaned down towards me again, looking deep into my eyes.

"Isn't it ironic?" he asked. "How that your father's favourite story, _your _favourite story, about the Phantom of the Opera and the Angel of Music, is now alive?"

I smiled, closing my eyes and looking down. "Yes…I'm sure Father would've been quite excited to see me like this." Marik laughed, running his fingers through my hair. I blushed deeper, opening my eyes and remembering another one of my father's favourite tales.

"And how he told me," I said eagerly, "that when he died, I would be visited by a guardian angel…and that the Millennium Items all had spirits within them…they were so fascinating!"

Marik gave a snort, closing his eyes ruefully. "I suppose. I've never really been a fan of Egyptian mythology, myself."

I nodded understandingly. Marik didn't even want to do anything about the Millennium Items after his initiation. Eventually he had gotten used to the fact he was a Keeper, but he still maintained a cold demeanor whenever the subject was mentioned. As expected, he quickly changed the subject, looking back at me.

"And indeed you have been visited by the angel," he smirked. "Your were wonderful tonight." His amethyst eyes twinkled. "How about a dinner with me tonight?"

I blinked, wishing to say yes, when my gaze fell on the lonely rose on my desk. My heart sank, but not in despair, but in disappointment that I had to break Marik's hope of seeing me further.

"I'm sorry, Marik," I said solemnly. "I can't. I've been visited by my angel. He's very strict and he won't let me go out."

Marik cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

I looked back up at him, immediately noticing the disbelief in his eyes. "Yes, Marik," I said seriously. "He teaches me how to be stronger, how to be more confident, and he won't let me do any leisurely activities in case I get weak again."

"You're not weak," Marik said off-handedly. He turned around, but only after he grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. I blushed furiously, unable to contain a giggle. He smirked, straightened, and began to head towards the door.

"Two minutes, Little Ryou."

I gasped, frowning. "Marik, wait…I can't---!"

But the door had shut, and Marik was expecting me within two minutes' time.

I sighed inwardly, turning back to my mirror. I looked to my left, where my floor-length mirror was, perched against the masses of gifts from women admirers. But all of them seemed invisible to the single lone rose on my desk, a deep, blood red color and tied with a silk black ribbon. I picked it up, remembering my promise to my phantom.

Suddenly, his low voice filled my room.

"_Ryou…do not forget your vow to me…"_

I hastily stood up, glancing around for my angel. "I'm sorry, angel," I spoke to the ceiling. "I'm very sorry…"

My Angel…he was speaking to me again! My heart swelled as I listened eagerly for his next words.

"_Tell me, Little Ryou. Now that you have gotten your confidence, how does it feel to sing upon the stage, having your loved ones cheering in the crowd? Had it not been for me, you wouldn't even had made it to the auditions."_

I gave the ceiling a grateful, tearful smile, sitting back on my chair. "I know," I said softly. "And I thank you, my angel."

My angel gave a laugh, a low, ominous laugh. Suddenly, his voice boomed across my room, trembling my desk in his rage.

_"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion! Basking in YOUR glory! _

_Ignorant FOOL, this brave young suitor, share in MY triumph!"_

I swallowed. He had seen Marik! I quickly landed on my knees in my room, clasping my hands in a praying manner, looking up pitifully at the ceiling.

_"Angel! I hear you speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me!_

_Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me, enter at last, master!"_

When there was only silence that met my pleas, I looked around nervously.

"Please, angel, don't leave me! I'm sorry! Forgive me!"

I was so relieved that I could've cried when I heard his voice again. This time it was softer, gentler.

_"Flattering child, you shall know me, _

_see why in shadow I hide…_

_…look at your face in the mirror…"_

As though in a trance, I slowly turned around, standing up. I glanced back at my floor length mirror as he coaxed me with his singing voice…

…and I saw…

…me!

However…my reflection soon merged into someone else…it was no longer reflecting my soft brown eyes, my pale, porcelain cheeks. Instead, they began to grow, taller and taller. The reflection's hair grew sharper, flying into the air in the windless room. His eyes…those very same eyes that had captivated me night after night in my dreams…were now staring at me back through the mirror; deep crimson brown.

And on his face…the right side of his face…

…was the mask….

_"I AM THERE INSIDE!"_

Mouth agape, I slowly began to glide towards the mirror, heart beating against my ribcage. His expression grew more grim with every step I took, but I paid no heed…all I wished was to be by his side, to see him, to feel him…

"_Angel of music, guide and guardian," _I sang, crying out as I neared the mirror, "_Grant to me your glory! Angel of music, hide no longer! Come to me strange, angel!"_

Slowly his voice trailed into my room, beckoning me, gesturing me to near towards the mirror. His form began to disappear, as though fading away, as though he was gliding back to an unknown place behind the mirror.

Yet those entrancing eyes held me, controlled me, beckoning me further towards the mirror. The Sennen Ring dangled from my neck, gliding smoothly in the air, as though a doll, as it strained itself towards the mirror…his voice a soft, tempting siren of the night…

"I am your angel…come to me angel of music…" 

The door rattled behind me, but I was barely aware of it…all that entranced me was my angel's dark, deep brown-red eyes, his beautiful, milky skin, his deafening, siren voice…

"Who is it in there...? Who is that in there!" Marik's voice yelled from the outside. There was another rattle as I was vaguely aware my childhood friend was trying to break down the door… I paid him no heed, hoping my Angel would not disappear from my eyes, lest I should be distracted…

But he seemed to be not too worried, either.

His voice continued to lure me, to coax me in a dreamy, dazed sleep…

_"I am your angel of music…"_

I was a mere step from the mirror now…my treasure was barely touching the reflective surface…as he raised his hand and I raised mine…

_"…come to me…angel of music…!"_

One more step…our fingers pressed against one another's through the sheet of glass…one more step…the Millennium Ring's points had tipped themselves against their reflection…

"Ryou! Angel!"

The Sennen Ring flashed.

* * *

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of golden light, and instantly music blared my ears, familiar music, as my head began to swirl. When I opened my eyes again, I was flying down a spiral of dark, flashing luminosities. Ancient Egyptian symbols and hieroglyphics swirled around the darkness; below me, a blinding pit of golden light…

…I landed through the blinding pit, ending up in on my feet in an old, Egyptian maze…parched walls surrounded me, their bricks old and brittle, but dark and haunting with entrancing beauty. Candles lingered in mid air above, casting dim rays against the darkness of the room; a moon shone above, its moonbeams wisping through the mist that was at my feet. I swirled around…the music wrapped itself around me…

…I saw a flash of white…no sooner had it been spotted, it disappeared…Angel?

I hesitantly took a step forward, confidence building within my chest as I dared to allow my voice to travel…Angel…

_"In sleep, he sang to me,_

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name…_

_And do I dream again!_

_For now I find_

_The Phaaaanntom of the Sennen Ring is there…_

_…inside my mind!"_

His familiar voice startled my thoughts; I whirled around and broke into a beam when I saw him gliding before me, a boat gliding upon the mass of fog…duplicate attire, black cloak swishing behind him, shadows darkening the side of his face, which held the mask.

_"Sing once again with me!_

_Our strange dueett….."_

Dizzy… I felt dizzy…he raised his hands to the heavens above, and I could almost feel my heart wrench towards the empty sky above my head…

_"My POWER over you…grows stronger yet….!" _

I flew into the air, my head a swirl, as darkness consumed me and the night sky above swirled above me. My heart wrenched towards the empty sky, before I floated back to the floor, my mind spinning and my Angel behind me. Quickly I turned, despite my spinning head, hoping he was still there…

…he was!

_"And though you turned from me…_

_…to glance behind…."_

My fingers were barely close enough to skin his face when he disappeared, only appearing swiftly behind me. He wrapped his arm around my torso, the other across my chest, as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his fingers trailing fondly at my throat…

_"…the PhAAAAnnntom of the Sennen Ring is there…_

_..inside your mind…!"_

Hands…his hands slithered around my chest, kneading my skin beneath his cold fingers…I felt my knees buckle before I closed my eyes, turning around in his arms. I looked up, gasping his face in my hands firmly, before running my fingers fondly over his features, trailing my fingertips affectionately down his mask…he made no move to stop me, and I opened my mouth again…

_"Those who have seen your face…draw back in fear…I am the mask you wear…"_

He took my fingers in his hand, kissing their tips tenderly, his eyes glazed and forlorn as his other fingers deftly brushed away my hair…

_"It's me they hear…"_

Simultaneously, both of us opened our mouths, our fingers caressing each other's features, as we allowed our voices to merge into one, echoing across the barrier of the empty maze…

_"Your/My spirit and my/your voice in one combine….!_

_The PhAAAAAAnnnntom of the Sennen Ring is there…."_

I stared deep into his eyes, his dark, haunting brown eyes…

_"…inside my mind!"_

Hands. His hands swirled me around, clasping my spine against his front, wrapping his arms around my chest. Those same hands began to slither and run deeply across my body, up and down my figure, making me shudder against his hold, melting me into putting in his porcelain hands. His nose nuzzled deep into my throat, his teeth bared as he ran his tongue pass my skin; I arched back, moaning as those deftly skillful began to slither their way down to my thighs, caressing them with longing, frenzy desire.

I moaned and gasped when they danced back up my inner thighs, softly trailing up my middle and my waist, brushing against my aroused sensitive length as they then raced towards my chest again. I shuddered, gasping, as my senses tingled themselves in his grasp. His canines sank themselves into my neck, lapping up my blood as I gasped again and leaned over back, burying my fingers in his hair. He nuzzled his nose from my neck up to my ear, nuzzling deeper as his hands firmly outlined my figure once again.

He swirled me out again, in a tense dance, before I twirled back into his grasp. He brushed his lips against my ear, his hands stroking my face…

_"In all your fantasies….you've always knew…_

_…that man and mystery…."_

White hair…white hair…another remarkable trait I recalled vaguely as his hands found their way downwards again, thrusting gently upwards underneath my inner thighs. I gasped, breath tightening, before I held tightly onto the base of his neck, shudders and passion surging through my blood.

_"…were both in you…."_

Once again, we allowed our voices to echo into the menacing ardor of the room, our passionate cries filling the silent tomb…

_"….and in this labyrinth…! Where night is BLIND…_

_…the PhAAAAANNNNtom of the Sennen Ring is here…"_

I fell limp in his arms, the passionate signals trembling my entire shadow over-loaded, the fiery, romantic frenzy of unmanly desirable wishes sweeping in a heavy wave over my mind…'

_"..inside my mind…!"_

He whirled me around again, before jerking me forwards into chest. He raised my chin, so I was staring mistily into those entrancing brown eyes…

_"Sing," _he whispered, "_my angel of music!"_

Nodding, I obeyed instantly, longing so desperately to please him, to fulfill his every wish.

_"Here's there…the Phantom of the Senneennnn…Rinnnggg…..AaaaaaaaAAaaahhhh! AAAhhhhhaahhhh!"_

_"Sing," _he commanded again, his hands trailing up underneath my shirt; he thrust me against a wall, his fingers continuing their passionate onslaught on my chest, kneading sharply for me to continue. My cloak and attire were soon discarded, and cold air whipped past my sensitive skin, but I did not care, and continued to sing, for I knew I had to please him, to thank him in any way possible and in all the ways possible….

"AaaaaaaAAAhhhAhhhhaaaaahhAAAa…Aaaaaahhhh….!" 

"_Sing for me…!" _he demanded again, thrusting me to the ground; my chest suddenly cold, before I felt him pin me down, saddling over my hips…I continued to sing, to please him, to give him everything I had in payment for what he had given me…he continued his overwhelming massacre of my senses with his siren hands, his tempting fingers as they raced up my sides. I squeezed my eyes shut, my voice echoing back in my vocalization …

"_AAaaaaahhhhhhhaaaaAAAAhhhhhAAAAhhhhh_…..!"

"_Sing, my angel of music!" _he yelled, throwing his head back, pressing firmly against my skin, massaging my flesh passionately sending cold shivers up my spine against his heavenly warm touch. Lust, ardor, passion and love surrounded us in a misty of undecipherable glory, accompanied with the music in which we had both come to know, the presence in which we had both yearned for…

"…_.aaaahhhh……AAAAAAAAAaaaaahhhhhHAAAAaaaaahhhhhhhhAAaaaaahhh…."_

"_SING FOR ME….!"_

There was a swift thrust, and suddenly, an overwhelming pain, but then, instantly following, an unrighteous pleasure that bathed my entire body in a hot, swaying passion…!

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…!"_


	8. The Music of the Night

Chapter Eight: The Music of the Night

Bakura POV

There were many times when I had encountered an angel of the light, but never before such as he. The angels that I had heard of were avenging, were strong, or were dead, cold marble monuments that merely loomed over decaying darkness. And yet, here was an angel, who was none of those things. If anything at all, he was a light of purity, a glowing luminosity of innocence and joy.

The simple way that he laid at my side, his soft, silver locks disappearing into the light clouds of fog that curled about him, the way his pale, porcelain hands held my own, so soft, so smooth, againts my own, made my mind spin and my heart race. How his black, thick lashes rested against his ivory cheeks, and how his large, effeminate eyes had glazed over in passion beneath me...how light he felt in my arms, and how his voice would bring this warmth into my chest...everything about him drove me into insanity for need. My need for him.

His nude form could be barely seen from the soft clouds of mist that surrounded him, that waved upon him and carressed his milky skin in his sleep. The same milky skin that I had ran my fingers upon, that I had carressed in my need, that I had tasted and ravaged in my hunger for him. As I watched him slumber peacefully, his face in the expression of pure, soft and utermost content, I gently ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the silken locks slip form my skeletal appendages.

For a while now, I had obsessed over him. When he had recieved the Ring, and I within it, something miraculous had happened. Something purely miraculous, but equally torturous. For the moment I laid eyes upon him...his crying, sobbing form, begging for his father in the lonely darkness of his dormitory room...I knew I wanted him, and I knew I needed him.

But I dared not approach him so...for I dared not allow myself to fall into the piteous hell of a pit that they call "love". "Love" had no place among the world, the world that I knew was filled with only darkness and empytness. A world of betrayal, and punishment, and endless pain. And yet, though I knew I could not have him, something inside of me wanted him, needed him.

But I am the Darkness, and an angel such as Ryou can not love a Darkness, as me. No matter how I wish it was so.

There was not a chance that I could tell him who I was; hence was why my soulroom, the room in which I would teach to him every night the ethics of survival in this cruel world, was always empty. If he knew what was truly its contents instead of the luscious recliner and the roaring fire and the supposedly "empty" maze beyond, he would have been terrified, and I would have lost my chance with him.

A soft whimper broke my thoughts, however, and immediately I turned to the little angel that was lying beside me. Dark lashes wavered as deep brown eyes were revealed, dazed slightly beneath the spell that I had enduced him with. A small smile appeared upon his lips.

"Angel?" he breathed, his voice a daze. "Angel?"

"I'm here, Little Ryou," I whispered, my hand softly cupping his chin. Gently, I laid my cheek upon his own, nuzzling it comfortingly. "Go back to sleep, Little Ryou," I whispered into his ear. "I shall always be with you. You are mine now...mine forever...and mine alone." I kissed his cheek. "Sleep," I whispered again. "Sleep, my little angel...my precious little angel."

My soft spell was replied with another, dazed smile, before his eyes fell shut. Once I was sure he was asleep again, I stood up, dressing myself. I slipped into the room in which I had taught him, retrieving a thin, translucent nightgown I had prepared for him. With the soft silken material in my hands, I returned back to the labyrinth, returning back to my little angel.

He was mine, and mine alone. Curse Marik for coming back into his life. He had never cared for Ryou; if he had, he would have pursued him more so, instead of obliging to Ryou's veiled need. Curse Marik. Curse Marik to the deepest pits of Hell, and Malik as well.

But it did not matter. Ryou was mine now, and as I knew, the Darkness always conquerers.

As I watched him sleep, I knelt down beside him, hearing his soft, even breaths. Even though he was soundly asleep, I proceeded to sing to him anyways, as I had done so so many nights before.

"_Night time sharpens...hightens each sensation..._"

As I sang, I proceeded to dress him, knowing that my voice had succumbed him further into my grasp, further into my spell. As my voice carried into the night, I knew was was lulled into my control, enraptured by my power, unable to escape, even if he wished to.

"_Darkness wakes...and stirs imagination..._"

Gently, I brushed his hair aside, noting his content expression, his trusting eyes. The way he was so limp in my arms, surrendering before me even before the battle had begun.

"_Silently the senses...abandon their defences..._

_Helpless to resist the notes I write..._"

No, Little Ryou, I thought. You could never leave me. Even if you wished to.

"_For I compose the music...of the night..._"

Sighing softly, I continued to stroke his hair, watching deeply. Around me, the soft white mist began to darken softly, curling themselves around my precious angel. How was it…that an angel such as he…could have fallen into the darkest pit of night that was my soul?

A small smile found its way upon my face. With such gentleness I was not even aware I possessed, I softly tucked his nightgown around him, allowing the mist upon the floor to blanket him with warmth.

I slowly stood up.

"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor 

_Grasp it, sense it…_

_Tremulous and tender…"_

My footsteps silent and quick, I swept through the mist and into the fog, my hands feeling the knobs that I had hidden from him. Knobs and handles of doors and passageways that I could not let my angel see…no…for if he found out what truly laid in the labyrinth beyond his study room, he would never become my fallen angel again.

With easy familiarity, I grasped a knob among the mist, twisted it, and opened it quietly.

"_Hearing is believing _

_Music is deceiving…"_

A soft pale blanket wove its way upon the mist, and sweeping it up, I promptly close the door. Already, tendrils of darkness had slithered their way around the hidden doorframe, desperate to taint that I had attempted to hide so vigilantly.

But oh, how the Darkness knew how to deceive…how Love knew how to deceive…

"_Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight…"_

In a world where life is surrounded by night, who are we, pathetic mortals, to say what is right and what is wrong? The Gods knew nothing of what was right and what was wrong…what was beauty and what was monstrosity…what was blessing and what was an omen…no…if the Gods did not know the difference, how could a mere mortal know?

Returning to my angel, I knelt upon the ground on one knee, and swept the blanket over his still form. His soft breathing was even, exhaling quietly every so often between his pink lips. His hair was still askew, blending in well with the mist that surrounded him. The nightgown looked beautiful on him…how it curved along with his every contour, how it creased along his sleeves, how it accented his purity and innocence so vibrantly…

If the Gods could not tell the difference, could my little Ryou?

"_Dare you trust… the music of the night?"_

Gently, I picked the angel up, intending to bring him to the room where our studies were always held. Even though it often pained me to see him hurt, and to know that I was the one who inflicted it upon him, I often had pushed the thought aside and concentrated on his overall purpose. I needed to teach him how to survive, how to defend himself…without knowing how to do so, how could my Little Ryou possibly survive?

Curse Marik for his pathetic over-protectiveness.

Even though he was deep in slumber, my angel gave a soft, contented murmur, burying his serene face into my chest. Unable to help myself, I smiled, wrapping the blanket about him and cradling him in my arms.

"Angel?" he murmured softly into my chest. "Mmn...Angel…"

"Shh," I hushed. Tenderly, I laid my fingers upon his eyes, gesturing him to continue to sleep. "Shh…I am here, Little Ryou. I am here…" And I continued to sing.

When we got back to the study, I laid him back down on the recliner where he used to rest. The fire in the fireplace was healthy, and greatest of all, silent. My Little Ryou would need his rest…

Standing up, I closed my eyes. Staring at him…looking at him…just being near him…how he reminded me so highly of myself when I was in Egypt…innocent to those around me, gentle to those who cared for me…but nevermore…

"_Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth…"_

Subconsciously, my hand clenched itself, and without my will, a tear trickled down from my right eye. However, I could not feel the tear, no…no…not as it trailed down the white mask that covered what part of me I couldn't hide otherwise.

"_And the truth isn't what you want to see…"_

Those mortals…those pathetic, insolent mortals…palace brats, they were all the same! A difference among hair color and skin shade…was that already enough to drive them to think me an omen? Obviously. And even though it has been three millennia, no…the world is still the same…mocking my Little Ryou…laughing at him, bullying him…casting him away for his pale skin and white hair…

Slowly, I trailed my hand up towards my masked face. Slowly, I watched as my gloved finger traced down the trickle of salt. Immediately, the skin beneath my mask prickled, and eyes opening, teeth clenching with rage, my fingers slowly froze themselves into a fist.

"_In the dark it is easy to pretend…!"_

With an angry flourish, I brought my hand back down to my waist, staring angrily at the ground. Oh, how Malik would pay…PAY …whether it be village idiots, murderous priests, or even the pharaoh himself…they were all the same, these mortals! All the same! No…no…no, just how my human heart had just HAD to betray me, just HAD to convince me that Malik loved me, that Malik cared for me… no…

Malik would _pay_…

"_That the truth is what it ought to be…"_

Mortals, palace brats, village idiots…all the same. That is why I am no longer mortal. Knowing that there is no difference between Love and Darkness…between Hate and Light…knowing that Darkness surrounds the world and will never die…this is why…

…I am the Darkness.

Though it started out as a low chuckle, I eventually threw my head back in laughter. The mask trembled a bit before sliding and inch off my face; with haste, I caught it, still laughing lowly with the insanity that brought me to this darkness.

No…my Little Ryou…no…you cannot ever see my face…for if you do…you will go…yes…you will go…just like Malik…just like Malik did, the bloody bastard….

…and I can never let you go…

"_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you…_

_Hear it, feel it_

_Secretly possess you…_

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind_

_In this darkness, which you know you cannot find…"_

Laughing, I knelt down beside my Ryou, feeling his soft locks within my fingers. Oh, my Little Ryou…you will never leave me, will you? No…I am your Angel, I am your lover…I am your teacher, your friend, your guidance, your love…I am everything that you are to me. You are my light, and I am your darkness.

"_The darkness of the music of the night…!"_

As though the Gods themselves possessed me, I threw my arms up to the empty sky above. Flurries of white doves soared through the door in which the snow-white mist floated within, soaring high above my head. White petals of roses fluttered in the air, drifting among us like snow…snow…snow…

"_Close your eyes start a journey through a strange, new world_

_Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before…."_

Again, I raised my hands in the air, and with another wild, passive flourish, I threw my arms up in the air again. This time, the doves flew faster, higher, contrasting so beautifully against the darkness. Just like me and my little Ryou…

"_Close your eyes and let music set you FREE!"_

And as the doves disappeared into the darkness of the sky above, a deep, satin ribbon began to drift down towards me. Slowly, more doves would evolve, each holding a bit of the ribbon within its beak. The ribbon was wound tightly around a statue in which I had created in my spare time…in my loneliness and in my lusting for my angel…my angel…

A marble statue, as tall as myself, was softly set to the ground. Obediently, the doves gathered themselves at the statue's feet, giving the Angel a more accurate impression than ever. Among the identical curves of my own Ryou hung a gown of pure satin pearl. Veils parted down the tapered waist, revealing layer upon layer of silken petticoats, laced delicately by wide, white roses. The white roses themselves were embedded with pearl in the budding, and in the hanging sleeves and bodice, were more embedded pearls.

The simple sleeves hung off my Angel statue's shoulders, revealing the identical pale skin of my Little Ryou. Among the beaded pearls, a single crimson rosebud was sewn within its center, and like the other roses, had another pearl embedded in it. A long, intricate veil was trailing from my Ryou statue's long white hair, blending perfectly with the trial of veil at the back of the tapered waist.

I circled around the wedding dress, occasionally lifting the veil, pretending that Little Ryou and I were to wed. He was certainly girlish enough to wear it. Laughing, I bowed before the statue, taking one cold hand within my own.

"_Only then…can you belong to me…"_

More petals drifted among the room, showering the entire study with snow white petals. Many had already begun to pile upon the carpet. White was certainly my Angel's color.

I could not describe the feeling of ecstasy that surged through my blood when I had taken him. I could not describe the opium-like haze that surrounded me, engulfed me within its purple wind. All I knew was that my Angel was near, that my Angel was mine, and that no one was going to take him away from me.

"_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication…_

_Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation…"_

Again, I filled my lungs with the deep perfume that was the many roses, and swept my way back to Ryou's recliner. Setting myself upon its cushions, I took his hand, slowly coaxing it, soothing over it. Imaging how a single ring would look upon his slender finger.

Watch out, Marik. Ryou was mine!

"_Let the dream began, let your darkest side give in_

_To the power of the music that I write…"_

"Little Ryou, let his mind wander," I whispered in his ear. "Little Ryou thought…am I a fonder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes, or riddles or frocks…" Here, I chuckled, and gently kissed my Angel's fingers. "Oh, my Little Ryou…I have gotten you your frock, and I hope you will love it as much as I do."

Gently, I bent forwards, and with a small smile on my face, I captured his lips. A soft, happy murmur escaped his own, and I was delighted to hear it. As my eyes fluttered shut, I grasped his hand, not caring that my mask was slipping off slightly.

"…_The power of the music of the night!"_

Releasing his lips, I straightened again, my mask refitting itself upon my cheek. No matter what I did, I must ensure that Ryou would be mine, even if he ever found out my true appearance beneath. It was not the monstrosity I was worried about…but rather, the unleashing of Darkness that it will wrack upon my soul room, possibly consuming what little light he had. No…I could not risk that….and yet, I could not risk my Ryou.

Again, I took his hand, and sung at the top of my lungs, unleashing my passion, my devotion, my love, not caring that he could or could not hear. I knew he was far too deep in my spell to react, so my heart soared through my voice and flew into the night.

"_You alone can make my song take flight…!_

_Help me make…"_

Gently, I kissed his hand, and wept against it.

"_The music of the …"_

Oh Ryou…my Little Ryou…my precious Little Angel…

"_Night…"_

* * *

Sorry I haven't updated in a while; I quickly finished up this one fast. Phantom-phans, you all know what's going to happen after this! Bakura's bubble is totally going to burst, and Ryou's going to pull a Christine! And then after that, dear ol' dashing Raoul will come in…XD. Oh, I can't wait to write the angst scene!

You know, I actually pride myself making Yami Bakura actually sound like Erik. Reading those lines, it does seem to be like how Erik loved Christine…I liked how I twisted Yami Bakura with a bit of an opium-induced haze…lol…Phantom-phans should know that one…XD Yep, I totally pride myself giving Yami Bakura Erik's way of thinking. "Gently, I kissed his hand, and wept against it"? Totally what Erik would do, and totally what Erik did.

Hopefully I can update soon, but I have tons of work. (bows) Au revoir!


	9. I Remember Notes

Chapter Nine: I Remember…/Notes

Yugi POV

As I watched the door swinging before me emptily, I clutched at the table's edge. On the floor before me, trunks were toppled about, their contents skewed all over the carpet. The draperies were ripped, and several lamps were broken on the floor.

Trembling, I sank to my knees, my legs shaking too much to support me. Upon my chest, the Millennium Puzzle glowed with concern.

_/Yugi/_ the pharaoh asked, his voice deep with concern. _/Yugi? Are you alright? If only I knew how to protect you…/_

_/It…it's okay…Y-Yami…/_ I whimpered back. /_I…I've never seen…I've never seen Ryou-kun…act like that before…/_

_/I'm sure it was not your friend/_ Yami whispered, his voice low with worry. /_But Yugi…are you alright? We will deal with your friend's circumstance later, but I must make sure you're alright../_

_/He told me tell you something/ _I interrupted, my heart in my throat with fright. /_He—he said..that the games started three thousand years ago will start again…th-that he will have his revenge…/_ Unable to help myself, I burst into tears. _/Yami/_

From deep inside my mind, I felt the Pharaoh----Yami, as I nicknamed him…---give a soft sigh of helplessness. It must have been so frustrating to see me so upset and still be unable to help…

_/Oh, aibou…/_ he whispered tenderly. Even though he could not wrap his arms around me in comfort, somehow his voice and his tone managed to soothe me, as like the many times before when Ryou was not there. _/…Don't be afraid, aibou…we will get to the bottom of this, don't worry…I am so sorry, aibou…it must've been my fault. Although I have hardly any recollection of your young friend, he did look slightly familiar…I'm so sorry if I brought this burden upon you, Yugi. I had no idea…I'm not even sure what games he was inferring…/_

I shook my head, sniffling. _/N-No…it's not your fault/ _I swallowed. /_You…you wanted to protect me, you didn't know how to protect me…I never…I never knew that Ryou could act so mean…/_

_/Do not blame it on your friend/_ Yami whispered firmly. _/I doubt that he was in any control at all when this happened. I have seen your friend, aibou. Ryou is a kindhearted soul…he would never do this to you willingly. No…the message he asked you to give me…Ryou has no comprehension that I live within you. No…it must be someone…that someone that he so strinkingly reminds me of…/_

_/Y-you mean…/_ Here, I hiccupped. /_Like…the Spirit of the Millennium Ring? Ryou used to tell me stories…he told me that there used to be a thief who's soul was put there by you…but I don't know if that's true…/_

Yami gave another sigh, and although I couldn't see him, I knew he was closing his eyes in fret, in worry.

_/Neither do I, aibou…/_

Ryou had always left me with a kind and warm aura. No matter where he was, his presence always gave me a soft, warm feeling, such was his nature. But….

When that white-haired stranger had left my room, his narrowed eyes matching his carnal grin, the only feeling I was left with was the cold feeling of dread.

For a while, Yami continued to comfort me, as we watched the door swing by in the wind. It swung slowly, creaking, as though possessed.

* * *

Bakura POV

I had never imagined that host-taking was so simple, but apparently it was. The Pharaoh's brat was easy to scare. If everything went smoothly, I would have everything. My revenge, my power, and most of all…

…My Ryou.

Beware, Pharaoh. Our games will begin again, just you wait and see.

* * *

Ryou POV

_White…white clouds…curling white clouds that wafted me perfumes of incense to my breaths…_

_White…white silk…white hair…yes…white hair…short…croppy white hair. Long, narrow white hair, soft and silken and smooth to the touch…my Angel's hair…_

_White…his mask…his white mask…_

_Weakly, I tried to reach out with my fingers, desperately wishing to smooth the mask away. I just had to see…I had to see…oh, my beloved Angel, I had to see…!_

_But the moment my fingers brushed against smooth satin, the whiteness disappeared. The mask disappeared, the hair disappeared, the clouds disappeared._

_My Angel disappeared._

_And all that was left…_

_…was night._

Groaning softly, I opened my eyes. The scent of roses wafted to my nose.

Inhaling deeply in content, I stretched out a bit, relishing what little sleep I had left. Soft pillows cushioned my head and a deep velvet cover was draped over my being, keeping me warm in my slumber. Moaning softly, I shifted back into a sleepy, comfortable position, weakly blinking my eyes.

It pleased me more than anything to realize I was still in the study of my Angel's chambers. Because of my frequent lessons and companionship, the room bore a sense of familiarity and security…something I hadn't felt since my father left.

The only thing missing was my Angel.

Suddenly, memories of the past night swirled through my mind. Vague, blurry memories of passion and pleasure and love…of us singing together, something we had only rarely down before…us dancing, him holding me so protectively, so securely…

I had to thank him. After all that he had done for me, I had to thank him.

If only I knew what was behind the mask…

Deciding impulsively at random, I threw off the velvet cover and threw myself onto my knees. The floor threatened to meet my eyes, swaggering precariously beneath my feet, and groaning, I put a hand to my head. I was still in a trance…a deep, vague, fuzzy trance.

Weakly, I stumbled myself to the door, creaking it open. Beyond the door was the empty maze that I had danced in with my Angel…still surrounded by mist and clouds. This time, however, a vast organ stood in the very center where, with his back towards me, sat my Angel.

He was playing, and oh, how beautifully he was playing! How his fingers danced with such passion along the keys…it was as though he was pouring his soul into his very fingers, the fervor of the notes so overwhelming I stumbled back. Slowly regaining my wits, I straightened, eager to sit next to my Angel once more.

But, I was still heavily induced within the recess of his spell, feeling awfully tired and dazed. I could not think properly, merely staring dumbly before me. A drunken surge of recklessness and passion rushed through me, and for that one moment, I wished nothing more but to see my Angel's face.

As I stared at him, playing at the organ, my eyes blank, I took a step forward. He seemed not to have noticed me…

I took another step forward.

"I remember there was mist… 

_Swirling mist against a dark, nightly sky…_

_There were candles all around_

_And in the night there was a cloud…"_

_And in the cloud…"_

I paused for a moment, staring at my Angel. A slow look of comprehension dawned upon me. White hair…white hair…not like mine, not like Fathers…

…Tozouku-ou….

"… _there was a man…"_

Warily, I took another step forward. My Angel did not look back at me as I approached him. Somewhere far away, a violin sang its song, the tune of my Angel in the chapel. Much like my father's violin…

A sudden curiosity gripped me, its claws so strong I could no longer bear it. Squaring my shoulders, I walked numbly forward, my soul still in a limp trance.

_"Who was that shape in the Shadows?"_ I sang to the heavens, to my father. _"Whose is the face in the mask?"_

By now, I was behind my Angel, and as the violins struck their tones and beckoned my fingers to his face, I took a deep breath…my fingers smoothing along his white mask…hooking it discreetly…

The mask fell away. He whirled upon me.

I gasped.

His deep brown eyes had widened in utter shock, and behind them, a roar of fire reared in rage. Their inhuman rage was not enough, however, to counter the wicked scar that coursed the right side of his cheek. It was glowing…glowing blood red against his pale skin, which I realized was slowly turning a dusky, Egyptian color…

In my horror, I had not the wits to grab his mask, and before either of us could do anything, it fell to the floor, and like porcelain…

…shattered at my feet.

…Angel!

* * *

Bakura POV

With a scream of terrible fury, I grasped my Angel's wrist. NO! This was NOT what I wanted! Damn the gods for cursing me with this fate once more! BUT NO! I was not going to lose Ryou…not again…not like when I lost Malik and when I lost to the Pharaoh!

"_DAMN YOU!"_ I roared at him. He cowered before me, his eyes wide and flashing with fear. Behind me, Darkness reared and conquered the maze that I had kept so hard to keep empty…the hidden doors snapped open, and out shrieked creatures of night and shadow and insanity that were my only three-millennia-companions._ "You little prying Pandora! You little viper! Is this what you wanted to see!"_

I swept my hand out behind me, gripping his wrist so hard that I could no longer feel the circulation. Behind me, sharp, swinging blades began to sway dangerously back and forth, threatening to behead anyone in my way. Little traps poked through the white mist, which had transformed into nothing but shadows of the Night.

"_Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper, now you cannot ever be free!"_

I sobbed, my skeleton fingers digging deeply into his veins. With every fervor of anger and fury I had, I slammed him against the wall, gripping his robe hard and tearing it within my grasp. My Angel…HOW COULD HE HAVE BETRAYED ME!

"_DAMN YOU!"_

Unable to hold back another sob, I gave a shudder. With everything I had, I released him, striking him across his face. The Shadows around me cackled, and as my fury slowly progressed to insane madness, I threw my chest to the sky, screaming, DAMNING the gods for their curse upon my bloody fate!

"_CURSE YOU!"_

With another sob, I fell to my knees, turning away from him. My fingers immediately gripped the right side of my cheek, feeling the scar beneath them tingle and burn. Slowly, my madness ebbed away, and slowly, gradually at first, I began to laugh. It was a deranged laugh, a cold laugh…no….no…not a warm one, not the one my Angel knew of…no no…hardly…

Suddenly, I burst out in laughter, throwing my head back. Me? Angel? NEVER! Hardly! I was the Darkness, and ONLY the darkness!

With an evil smirk across my lips, I whirled upon him. My eyes were narrowed, and for once, they were not hidden with my mask, or the shadows of my top hat, or my bangs. No…no…he could now see my eyes…my true eyes…blood red and deep with fire and passion and lust and vengeance…all within its terrifying glory, like my deformity!

With a wicked smirk, I advanced upon him, beginning to sing softly. However, this time my voice was mocking, was cruel, and bitter. Twisted. I raised a hand out towards him, leering at him mockingly.

"My my, little Ryou," I whispered. "Damnable, inquisitive host…you hosts are all the same…aren't you…?"

I gripped his silken locks, and threw my head back, starting to circle him. Again, I let my voice trail into the night, so mockingly, so cruel.

"_Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even dare to look?_

_OR bear to think of me, this loathsome gargoyle who _

_burns in hell_

_but secretly_

_yearns for heaven _

_secretly, secretly…"_

For a moment, I stopped, smirking at the fear behind his eyes. With deceiving gentleness, I cupped his chin, raising his face to meet mine.

"_But Ryou…"_

Smirking once more, I cupped both hands onto his cheeks, capturing them within my grasp and having no intention to release them. I leaned in, close, my lips in such a leeringly sick smile that it frightened him…yes…frightened my Little Ryou…my lips were so close to his that they were merely touching, but no…I wanted to prolong his fear, wanted him to suffer for at least that one moment…so I continued to sing, comforting him in my sickly glory.

"_Fear can turn to love, _

_you'll learn to see to find _

_the man behind the monstrous beast, repulsive carcass_

_who seems a beast but secretly… dreams of beauty…" _

My voice slowly grew more bitter, my fingers gripping hard against his silken locks so hard it was painful. With an agonizing note, I bowed my head, unable to keep the hatred and anger that threatened to rip through my voice and spear him through the heart.

"… _secretly, secretly, secretly…" _

I fell to my knees, my adrenaline abandoning me, leaving me with bitterness and regret.

"_Oh, Ryou…"_

Although I was not watching, I had feeling that Ryou had slowly sunk beside me as well. However, before I could give him any gratification, I abruptly stood up and turned away, my fists clenching hard. Behind me, he gave a soft whimper, a soft, helpless, fearful sound.

"A-Angel…"

"Don't call me that," I snapped harshly. "If you do, it will all be a lie. You have finally seen me, Ryou, even though I told you not to. Even though I had begged you to not look at my face, to never inquire about my mask…no…you just had to betray me, you inquisitive little host." Smirking bitterly, I looked up into the sky, my scar glowing brightly against the darkness. "This is me, my Little Ryou. I am not your Angel. I am not your Guardian. I am the Darkness, I am your Yami. I am the thief that plaqued the land of Egypt and died in the hands of your Sennen Ring." Laughing, I turned back towards him, my smirk once again in place, deranged and cold.

"I _am _Bakura."

* * *

Yugi POV

It's been a while since I've seen Ryou, and it frightens me. The man that I had seen that night was certainly not Ryou, but I could not imagine who else it could have been. All I hoped was that perhaps Ryou was happily spending time with Marik, and that whoever scared me that night was an imposter.

Meanwhile, because of Ryou's disappearance, our school's play was severely declining in income. Seto Kaiba, who was one of the main patrons and managers for our play, was pulling as many strings as possible to keep the play above water. The first few times we had Ryou's substitute play Phantom…the one that Ayato had mentioned…Mano…but shortly after I had my encounter with Ryou, Mano had disappeared. No one was sure where he went, and many of Serenity's giggly friends had spread a rumor that there truly was a Phantom of the Opera.

"Oh, Madmoiselle Giry, is there really true there was a Phantom?"

"His name was Erik, wasn't it? Oh, Erik…!"

"Maybe he'll come and take one of us away…"

I shook my head in my soul room. If any of them really knew the depth behind the myth of the Opera Ghost, they wouldn't have been to pleased that indeed, if the Phantom had taken Mano away…Mano was as good as likely dead.

After Kaiba could not find Ryou, nor could he spare any more time wasting on trying to improve the play with a lack of Phantom, a recasting occurred. I went to watch, but not one of them was even remotely good as Mano, much less as good as Ryou. Even Weevil Underwood tried out, but he mutilated the Phantom's role so badly that I had to wince. After that, he returned to his role as Joseph Buqeut, and even flirted with some of the girls with a noose around his neck.

"Like yellow parchment is his skin…  
A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew,  
You must be always on your guard,  
Or he will catch you with his magical lasso!"

He even managed to hook a ballet girl with his lasso. I hid my face in my hands. I nearly

wanted to cry. If Ryou were here, they wouldn't have been mutilating his favorite play so!

It seemed as I was not the only one that found his enactments immature and stupid. In fact, Isis and her apprentice, Shaadi, were not quite happy either. In fact, Isis had grabbed that noose from his hand, and glared at him with her usually friendly blue eyes.

"Those who speak of what they know," she whispered softly, "find to late that prudent silence is wise."

She flicked her wrist; the noose wrapped around Weevil's neck. He whimpered in fear.

"Weevil Underwood, hold your tongue!" She even slapped him across the face. She glared at him, pointing a finger at him warningly. "If you're wise, Weevil…"

"Then you will keep your hand at the level of your eyes," Shaadi finished.

* * *

Yami POV

I am now named 'Yami'. It sounds very foreign on my tongue, but whatever 'floats his boat', as Yugi says a lot. But no matter. I had other matters to attend to, and one of them was to meet with the blue-eyed, black-haired Egyptian woman named Isis.

By Egyptian mythology, Isis was the mother goddess. It struck me too much of a coincidence for her to be named after that, especially since she owned so many of the treasures that resembled my Puzzle and Ryou's Ring. Also, her apprentice, Shaadi, also seemed very suspicious. The man never blinked, never smiled, and literally, passed through walls. It seemed as I was the only one who ever noticed these things, because when I first brought up the subject, Yugi thought I was insane.

I was in the museum, observing the many Egyptian treasures with curiosity when Isis's adoptive brother, Rishid, came in. I only knew that they were adoptive siblings because I had overheard Ryou talking with them. Unfortunately, he had no idea who I was, and apted for showing me around the exhibit.

I asked him many questions about the Nameless Pharaoh, but he gave me little answers. But apparently, by myth, I once defeated the great King of Thieves. I dare not imagine how closely the picture of him resembled a much darker version of Ryou himself. Perhaps if I did not try to remember, perhaps nothing would happen.

He said he knew me. He said that we had started a game three thousand years before. Why could I not remember?

Frustrated that I knew nothing about my past, I headed for the door, and without saying goodbye or thank you to Rishid, I burst through it.

* * *

Seto Kaiba POV

I was walking down the stairs near the exhibit, muttering to myself. Bakura missing, Mano missing, and our Carlotta had left without her precious Mano. Half the cast disappeared for fear that this ridiculous 'Phantom' had returned, and I had less than a day to pull as many strings as possible to keep this prestigious musical from sinking at this boarding school.

Isis and Shaadi were of course, no help. Madam Giry had mysteriously disappeared, but in a more metaphorical sense. She had been seen secluding herself from everyone, perhaps at shock that her favorite student had suddenly abandoned his most passionate play. I hadn't cared either way. I needed to pull this musical up once more, with or without the help of that blasted patron, Marik Ishtal.

I was shifting through the many letters I had received while I was walking downstairs. I needed a word with Isis and Shaadi. Bill, bill, bill, complaint, bill, bill, letter of recognition, bill, bill, letter from Mokuba, bill, bill…

I stopped abruptly.

_Firmin._

I arched an eyebrow. Was this someone's idea of a crude joke? Perhaps there was someone pretending to be "Phantom" to scare the students away, but this was getting ridiculous. I had no penchant to deal with these dismal attempts at a practical joke, and was about to throw it away when I noticed the scrawled lettering on the back. They were written in effective Egyptian hieroglyphics, but for the life of me, I could not fathom as to how I could read them.

_Seth._

I scowled and stuffed the rest of the papers in my inner pocket except the one note. I continued my journey now the stairs, muttering all the way darkly.

_"Mystery after gala night!_

_It says mystery of Soprano's flight!_

_'Mystified' all the papers say!_

_'We are mystified, we suspect foul play!'"_

I groaned silently to myself and ripped open the envelope.

_"Bad news on soprano's scene,"_ I muttered lowly to myself. _"First 'Carlotta', now Ryou. Still, at least, the seats get sold."_ I stopped, closing my eyes and fighting the urge to roll my eyes. _"Gossip's worth its weight in gold…"_

I was suddenly struck with an idea. Why not? If they believed that Phantom truly haunted this place, why not encourage it? It certainly brought enough publicity as it is…

Energy regained, I continued down the flight of stairs, much more anticipated than before.

_"What a way to run a business! Spare me these unending trials!_

_Half your cast disappears but the crowd still cheers!"_

I threw my hands in the air.

_"Opera!_

_To hell with Gluch and Handel _

_Have a scandal and you can pack them in the aisles!"_

Suddenly, I heard a door bang open. I looked towards my side coolly and saw who was known as Yugi stomp out of the room. He was muttering erratically beneath his breath and looking extremely upset.

"_Damnable! Will they all walk out?"_ he muttered angrily to himself. _"This is damnable!"_

I cut him off. _"Yugi, please don't shout!_ _It's publicity and the take is vast! Free publicity…_!"

He looked at my with a deadened expression as I finished the last few steps of the

staircase.

"_But you have no cast,"_ he said flatly.

I shook my head and ushered him to the side, waving the notes and envelopes in my hand.

"_Yugi, have you seen the queue?" _With a practiced finger, I flicked out another note from my pocket. "_Ah! It seems you got one too…"_

Eyes widening, Yugi impatiently snatched the letter from my fingers. He glared at me as he opened it, and for once, I noticed the ruby glaze in the normally violet eyes.

"For the record," he said shortly, "call me Yami." He opened the letter and read it out loud, his eyes widening, if possible, even more.

"_Dear Pharaoh what a charming gala,_

_My host was, in a word, sublime._

_Seth was hardly bereft when 'Carlotta' left…_

_On that note, the diva's a disaster, you must cast her to the Shadows when she seasons past her prime!"_

Yugi---Yami---looked bewildered. He looked at me for answers, although unfortunately, I had none. I merely gave him a flat look and held up mine.

"It must be a joke," I said crudely. "I got the same one. But does it matter? Tell your French teacher that all this gossip should be encouraged! Who needs a musical when the gossip itself is so worthwhile?"

"What does yours say?" asked 'Yami' seriously, clearly ignoring what I had just said. I shot him a cold look, then shook out the letter and held it out in front of me.

"_Dear Seto_

_Just a brief reminder:_

_My salary has not been paid_

_Send it care of the ghost by return of post,_

_T.K.B_

_No one likes a debtor so it's better if my orders are obeyed!"_

I shook myself gracefully and smoothly replaced the pathetic letter back into my coat jacket. Yami gave me an incredulous look, and I knew that both of us were pondering the same thing. Ironically, we both voiced it simultaneously as well.

"_Who will have the gall to send this?"_

"_Someone with a puerile brain,"_ I said flatly. Yami ignored me and continued staring at the letter in confusion.

"_These are both signed T.B…"_

"_Who the hell is he!" _I demanded imperiously.

Yami's eyes widened, and he stopped abruptly.

_"Opera ghost?"_ I suggested dryly. Yami shook his head and stared at the letter.

_"This is nothing short of shocking…"_

_"He is mocking my position!'_ I protested, infuriated. _"In addition he wants money…"_

_"He's a funny apparition…"_ Yami trailed thoughtfully. I rolled my eyes in disgust.

_"To expect a large retainer_

_Nothing plainer…he is clearly quite insane!"_

I was about to continue on about how ridiculous these letters were when I was rudely interrupted. The good-for-nothing chaperone Ishtal had finally shown his appearance. He burst in through one of the doors behind us, looking not one bit pleased, and was holding a crinkled letter in his vice grip.

"_Where is he?"_ he demanded.

I gave him a cold look. "_You mean Carlotta?"_

_"I mean our Phantom, where IS he?"_

_"And how should we know?"_ interrupted Yami, who clearly understood the Ishtal's meaning of "Phantom" as our missing actor. The Ishtal still did not look pleased at all though. In fact, with a rather dangerous flourish, he thrust the letter in his hand into Yami's face.

_"I want an answer!"_ he demanded, amethyst eyes flashing._ "I take it that you sent me this note!"_

_"What's all this nonsense?" _I demanded.

_"Of course not!" _Yami exclaimed.

_"He's not with you then?"_ Marik asked.

_"Of course not!"_

_"We're in the dark!"_

_"Pharaoh, don't argue!" _Marik snapped angrily. _"Is this the letter you wrote?"_

_"And what is it that I have meant to have wrote?"_ asked Yami impatiently. He bristled and huffed impatiently. "W_ritten._"

He grabbed Marik's note, and with a flourish, uncurled it. He read it out loud, looking more and more confused as he read through each line.

_"Do not fear for Little Ryou._

_The Angel of Music has taken him under his wing._

_Make no attempt to see him…again…"_

With that suspenseful note, Yami raised his ruby eyes. They were glowing deep crimson, shining with bewilderment and wonder. Slowly, he lowered his head, thinking deeply as he stared intently at the floor.

"I most certainly did not send this, Marik."

"If you didn't send it," Marik snapped impatiently, "then who did?"

Again someone interrupted us.

_"WHERE IS HE?"_

I turned and was surprised to see Mai Kujuyaki flying at me. Her corset-clad-breasts shook very obviously as she angrily waved a note in my face. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and turned away from her angry gestures.

"Ah, Carlotta, welcome back," I greeted without much emotion. She, however, had the exact opposite.

"_Your precious patron, where IS HE?"_

"_What is now?"_ Marik spoke up impatiently.

Mai immediately rounded on him and glared at him dangerously. _"I have you letter- A letter which I rather resent!"_

_"Did you send it?"_ I demanded of Ishtal. He gave me an astounded, frustrated look.

_"Of course not!"_

_"As if he would!"_ Yami spoke up.

I bristled. _"What is going on?"_

But Mai did not stop. _"You mean to tell me that this is not the letter you sent?"_

_"And what is it I've meant to have sent?" _demanded Marik angrily. He snatched the note away from Carlotta and began to read it.

_"You days at the Opera Populaire are numbered. Ryou Bakura…"_

"Oh, that little wench!"

Marik shot Carlotta a fiery look but otherwise said nothing. "_…will be singing on your Mano's behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you dare to attempt to take her place."_

Everyone paused for a moment, drinking these words in. Finally I spoke up and depicted my opinion on the matter.

_"Far too many notes for my taste! _

_And most of them are about Ryou!_

_All we've heard since I've came is Little Ryou's name…!"_

Suddenly, Shaadi and Isis floated out from the museum doors. Isis's caramel face was pale.

_"Little Ryou has returned."_

I bristled shortly, quite annoyed that our main star had disappeared and then returned. The incompetence! _"I hope no worse for wear as far as we're concerned."_

**"**_Where precisely is he now?"_ Yami asked, obviously concerned.

Isis curtsied hesitantly. "_I thought it best, if he was alone…"_

"_He needed rest,_" Shaadi explained.

Marik pushed his way through. _"May I see him?"_

Shaadi shook his head. _"No, Master, he will see no one."_

_"Will he sing? Will he sing?"_ Mai demanded.

Isis raised her fingers, which entrapped an envelope. _"Here, I have a note."_

_"Let me see it!"_ Yami, Mai and Marik all demanded at once.

I quickly snatched it out of Isis's hands. Bristling irritatedly, I glared at them for all being their immature selves, before ripping open the letter sufficiently.

"Please!" I flickered open the letter and began to read.

"_Gentlemen,  
I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature  
Detailing… how my theatre is to be run  
You have not... "  
_

-Fade in, Bakura POV-

"…_followed my instructions.  
I shall give you one last chance_." I laid down my pen and went to seal the letter.

"_Ryou Bakura has returned to you  
And I am anxious his career should progress  
In your new production of Ll Muto  
You will therefore cast Valentine as the pageboy  
And put Little Ryou in the role of Countess  
The role which Little Ryou plays calls for charm and appeal  
The role of the pageboy is silent, which makes my casting, in a word…"_ I pressed the letter against its wet lock firmly. "…_ ideal."_

With an ominous silent, I reached for my own personal seal. As I stamped its wooden block into the ink, I watched as the letter was scrawled in ink on its own. I smirked. I didn't need my own mortal hands to do mortal things.

"I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box five  
Which will be kept empty for me.  
Should these commands be ignored…  
A disaster beyond your imagination will occur." I slipped the wooden block from the red ink pad, and aimed it over the letter carefully.  
"I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant…"

I slammed the wooden stamp onto the letter. When I released the stamp, a bloodied skull looked back up at me.

"…T.K.B."

-Fade out, Seto POV-

I looked at the letter in silence and distain. With all heart, I was ready to discard the thing right to where it belonged…the garbage…and continue reprimanding Ryou for teetering the state of my company. However, Mai's outburst prevented me from doing that.

"_Ryou_!" she cried in disgust. "_It's all a ploy to help Ryou!"_

"_Whatever next?"_ Yami breathed, although I was certain he wasn't talking about Ryou. "_Whatever will happen next…?"_

I huffed impatiently. "_This is insane_…"

"I _know who sent this_!" Mai cried, grabbing the letter. She crushed it in her hands and pointed at Marik. "_The Vicomte! His lover!"_

Marik looked hardly fazed. "_Indeed? Can you believe this?"_

"_You traitor!"_ she cried at me. "_You traitor!"_

"_Signora, please,"_ I ushered. "_This changes nothing!"_

"_This changes everything!"_ Yami argued. I silenced him.

"Regardless. Ryou has not done his part and he will be punished. He will be playing the silent role, while Mai will be playing the Countess. End of story."

"Seto, you don't know what you're doing!" Yami hissed urgently. "Seto…!"

I silenced him and buttoned up my shirt, my voice with a tinge of finality to it. "Stop! I am in charge of this play. I am in charge of this fundraising. We will be playing Il Muto and Ryou will play the pageboy!"

"Mr. Kaiba, please…" Isis breathed, reaching out towards me. I shook her off and turned towards the door.

"I am Seto Kaiba. My word here is final!" I turned back to face them. "_Our Carlotta will be playing the lead!"_

* * *

Yeah, I know that ending was pretty lame, but it was either continue with Joey and Tirstan sucking up to Mai and singing Primma Donna, or going to bed. I chose the bed. XD

Anyways, sorry for ditching this chapter for so long. This chapter was pretty hard to write with all the different people, which is why I sort of stopped it before Prima Donna. Next chapter will be some enlightment of Bakura's past, and the show of Il Muto. And perhaps even some rooftop romance…though I doubt that will be in the next chapter. Probably the one after that.

Next chapter: Il Muto/Why Have You Brought Us Here?

The chapter after that: Apollo's Lyre / All I Ask of You.

Sorry for this delay, thank you for 102 reviews! Keep on reviewing please! Phantom of the Ring is just about to get a little hotter!


	10. Il Muto

Chapter Ten: Il Muto

Ryou POV

I was…so tired. Ever since I had angered my Angel, I had kept to myself, locked myself in the room where he always taught me. He didn't bother to come and see me. I would curl up by the door, my back against its wooden frame, listening to his organ in the middle of the mist. He would often play for hours at a time, every key and note striking memories in my heart. Somehow, he had found out every song my father had sang, every melody my father had played, and every opera my father had brought me to. Hearing each note panged my heart, and yet somehow, drew me deeper into his spell.

The streak of his scar left a bright, white image in my mind. His right cheek had been struck with such a terrible, frightening wound that I could no longer find myself to touch him as I used to. Although his scar left no other disfigurement…it was the way he had snarled at me, scowled at me, yelled at me that made his scar seem all the more evil. It trickled from his right eye, scrunching it up, darkening the whites of his eyes and intensifying the red. If I had been in my right mind and if he had not looked at me so evilly, my Angel would have been very handsome.

I was not sure what had come over me. I couldn't get the image of his eyes out of my head…his bright, red, crimson eyes, the color of bright red blood…they had been such a beautiful shade of brown at some point; a deep, chocolate brown. But now they were glinted in red…pinpricks of crimson that twinkled with lust and anger and spite. My heart sank.

No matter how hard I knew I should fight him…fear him…leave him…every word he sang and every music he played just drew me deeper into his fog of misconcepted love. I couldn't bear to draw away from him. To leave him.

And for every moment I remained in his trance, my body grew weaker. It seemed to slag on it's own, as though my very strength was seeping away from me, even though I had never truly considered fighting against him. When I heard the last note of his organ, I bit my lip and closed my eyes, before dragging myself away from the door and towards the recliner.

He opened the door shortly after I had laid myself down on the recliner. His mask was once more in place, though his eyes were still that terrifying shade of deep, brown-red. He stalked towards me, before stopping by the side of the recliner. He stared down at me, his eyes locked on mine.

He didn't bother to touch me. He merely stared at me, unblinking, his face cold. His gloved fingers were still.

"Your friends are certainly insubordinate people," he hissed at me suddenly. I jostled and looked at him, fear dwelling in the bottom pit of my weakened heart.

"My-…my friends?"

He scowled at me, his cheek twitching. "Yes. Your pathetic friends. I have work to do, and yet they have stood in my way." He finally raised his hand, and brought it towards my face. "Perhaps I should teach them a lesson, as I've done you…"

At the glanced of his fingers trembling towards me, I whimpered fearfully and shut my eyes. He gave me a quick slap on the cheek for my show of weakness, before grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him again. I dreaded to look into those vengeful eyes again.

"Look at me," he hissed. "How many times have I taught you not to show weakness?"

I whimpered and opened my eyes, nodding my head weakly. He growled and pulled me up from my chin, holding me steady from my chin as my body fought to remain stable. His eyes flickered over my body before drilling back into my eyes.

"You are weak," he said simply. I nodded, averting my eyes away from his, hoping that he would buy this as a show of respect, and not of fear. "Foolish child…" He then released his tight grip on my chin, and beckoned me after him. "Follow me."

I raised my head and watched as he strutted towards the longer end of the carpeted room. Though swaying slightly, I managed to catch up to him, tottering after him obediently as he neared a cloaked portion of the room. He grabbed my hand in one, while the other grabbed the golden rope that hung from the curtains.

"You are afraid of me, are you not?" he asked wickedly, his cold face gleaming into a twisted smile. I quelled my need for a whimper, and merely nodded my head, averting his eyes. I heard him snort. "If you are afraid of me, then why do you not fight back after all I've taught you?"

I merely hung my head, having unsure of that question myself. "…Forgive me, Angel," I said quietly. "…I don't know."

He snorted again, this time derisively. "You mortal humans…such a weak heart. Have I already told you not to succumb to the idea of love? It is that that drives pathetic humans to their end."

I lowered my head again and stared at my feet. "Sorry, Angel…" I whispered.

He took a step towards me. I stiffened, prepared for another slap for showing weakness. However, his hand had found its way around my neck and jaw, and was beginning to caress it with cunning gentleness.

"Shh…" he hushed, his fingers slipping over my jaw softly and brushing back my hair. "It is alright. I suppose you wouldn't fight me…I am, of course, your precious _Angel_." He slowly maneuvered around me, an arm wrapping around my waist as he breathed sensually against my neck. "As you are mine, _Angel_."

He gently slid a hand underneath my shirt, grazing over my belly and up to my ribs. "You've been such a good _angel_ to me, haven't you, Little Ryou? It's no good to leave me worried about you and your health…" Here, he rubbed his fingers against my ribcage, indicating how weak I was at that moment. "…isn't that right, Little Ryou?"

I shook my head, body too tired and too much in his daze to fight at all. He slid the hand from my wrist up my arm, following to my shoulder, before beginning to massage my neck and caress my whole body fondly.

"Shh…" he hushed into my ear, his breath washing over my neck. "Sweet little Ryou. You have given yourself to me, haven't you? Despite my monstrosity, do you still admire me? I am, after all, your precious Thief King whom you always pitied…" At this, the hand on my shoulder grabbed my hair and jerked it back roughly. "But I don't want to be pitied, Little Ryou. Forgive me for my little breakdown outside a few days ago…I do have a bit of a temper."

I nodded weakly, my breathing turned slightly harsher against the strain on my hair. "You are…forgiven, Angel," I whispered softly. He chuckled in my ear.

"No need to be shy with me, Little Ryou," he whispered tenderly. "What happened to that beautiful smile of yours? What happened to all your little needs for my touch?"

I swallowed softly and unsurely, gripped the soft cloth of his pants. "I still need you…Angel."

He chuckled again and nuzzled my throat. "Forgive me for my rude behavior. Normally I do have a temper, but I shall not leave you as much as you will not leave me. I am devoted to you, my little Ryou…yes indeed." He gave me a kiss on the cheek. "From the day you received my Ring, I have been drawn to you. Ask, and you shall receive, Little Ryou."

I bit my lip and nodded my head. As fond as those words of endearment were, I still had not regained my full trust for him entirely.

He smirked against me and softly kissed my neck. "Really now. I am surprised. I would've thought that since you have now seen me in my monstrous face, you would be terrified of me."

"I…am a little scared," I admitted. "But…it's alright."

He shook his head and began to lick up the length of my neck. "But are you afraid enough to leave me, Little Ryou?"

I forced back a whimper and shook my head, hesitantly running my hands up and down the length of his black-clothed thighs to ease my nervousness. He moaned softly against my throat and kissed me possessively against my neck again.

"Are you?"

"N-No…Angel." I stuttered. What else was I supposed to say?

He gripped me hard around the waist, as though he could tell my hesitance. With a small, suggestive nip against my skin, he urged me forwards towards the curtains. The hand around my waist reached for the rope once more.

"Good, child," he breathed. "Then if you have no more objections for being mine and mine alone…let me ask you this." With that, he jerked the rope from the curtain, and the curtain swept away to the side. I gasped.

Before me stood what was a frighteningly identical statue of myself. Its eyes, although hauntingly beautiful, were staring at me with such intensity I thought it was real. The dress that clothed it was none other than a splendid wedding dress, although the inclination of what my Angel was asking me was too great for me to appreciate the dress's beauty. I began to shake, unsure of how to take this new situation.

He gripped me tight and prevented me from fainting on my knees. The hand once stroking my hair returned to my chin, and forced me to look straight at the statue's seemingly empty eyes. I whimpered fearfully, but he would not let go.

"This is my question, Little Ryou," he hissed in my ear. "For all this time, I have yearned you to be mine. I have protected you. I have cared for you. I have been there for you whenever you needed me. I have been the closet thing of the human weakness of love you seek. Answer me." He gripped my chin hard and brought his lips within an inch above my ear. "Will you marry me?"

Against my will, I had begun to panic. Although for the longest time, I had wished desperately to be anything of my Angel's. However, after seeing the horrors behind him and the menace he held in his heart, I was terrified. I wasn't ready. As much as I loved him, I couldn't do this. Not yet!

I whimpered loudly in distress, trying to signal that I was not comfortable whatsoever. But he did not relinquish his hold on me and licked me again, trying to calm me down. I gripped his pants, trying to stifle my trembles.

"A-Angel…" I whined. "I…I'm not..I'm not ready for such things yet…"

"Not ready?" he repeated incredulously. "Surely you are ready. Do you not care for me, little Ryou?"

"Yes…yes I do," I replied hastily. "But I…I'm too young. I'm not ready for such a thing yet. I…"

My Angel's voice grew deep. "You are not ready for a life long eternity bond, but you were ready for a night of rather…enticing intercourse?"

"I…" I stuttered weakly, closing my eyes. "I…I just…I just needed you…badly that night. But this…such a thing…I…I'm not ready yet…"

He growled lightly in my ear and tightened his hold against me. "Are you deceiving me, my vessel? Do you still harbor feelings for that pathetic mortal, Marik?"

My eyes shot wide open. "N-No!" Marik! Oh Lord…how had I forgotten him? Was he looking for me? Wondering where I was? Oh no…coffee night!

My Angel growled again and turned me away from the statue, and forced me towards the recliner again. Regaining my ground, I stuttered to coherent another excuse.

"I…I am not ready yet," I repeated hastily. "Please Angel…I am still devoted to you! If there is any other way I can prove it, let me do it! Please…"

My Angel said nothing, but I could feel him scowling behind me. More roughly than usual, he pushed me down against the recliner, and before I could regain my bearings, promptly saddled me across my hips. My heart gave a frantic leap through my weakened haze.

"Well…I suppose there is something…" he breathed thoughtfully. He leaned down upon me, smiling slightly when he saw me blush. "…I am glad you have freed me from my confinements. For a while now, I have been using your body for my own usage. You see…I have plans of my own I have to create, but unfortunately, I don't want to strain your precious body…" He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips. "So I ask you this. When the time is right, I shall ask again for your hand. However, until then, you can prove your loyalty to me by giving me my own body."

"Your own body?" I stuttered incredulously, squeaking when I felt his hips press against mine. "B-but…how…?"

He smirked at me and kissed me on the forehead. "No need to fear, Little Ryou. I am merely asking for some of your energy to share…You see, I have no body of my own. But with enough energy, I can use my powers within my Ring and create an illusionary body of my own. If the magic is strong enough, and the sacrifice is big enough, I can make my body solid."

"Sacrifice?" I squeaked fearfully. He burst out into laughter and kissed me on the nose.

"Of course not you, sweet little Angel," he smirked. "The sacrifice is only needed to make my body absolutely solid after my time of illusionary body. Think of it as a free trial. I get my own body for a few days, and if I can pay it with a large enough sacrifice, I get to keep it. But in order to get that free trial first…" He pressed a finger against my nose mockingly. "I'll need someone to give me the energy to create it. So what do you say, little Angel? Will you prove your devotion to me by giving me what I wish?"

I whimpered fearfully, but nodded my head. As much as he scared me, there was no point in denying that my Angel had still placed somewhere special in my heart. At least I didn't have to give him my answer right away…

My fingers shaking, I slowly ran my fingers through his hair. He moaned in content, bending down once more to kiss me tenderly on the lips.

"Yes Angel…" I whispered. "I will…give you my energy."

* * *

Yami POV 

This was unsettling. I couldn't help but feel the increasing inkling that something terrible is about to happen. My Puzzle felt extremely agitated for one reason or another, which I voiced to Yugi. He also felt extremely worried, but told me to shake it off.

It was indecisive and extremely reckless of Kaiba to do what he had done. I had warned him that something terrible was going to come out of the misplacement of Ryou. However, he had not given me a second glance, since he could not stand incompetent people who always appeared late, like Ryou. I had bristled at that. Ryou was extremely reliable, which was why I urged Kaiba to not play Il Muto.

Yugi went up to visit Ryou today. I'm not sure how I should've reacted if I had seen him. I was too worried that something had happened…something terrible.

Yugi had to tell Ryou he was not playing the lead role.

* * *

Ryou POV 

I woke up sometime in my room. My entire body felt so tired. My arms felt weak, my legs were jelly, and my backside was aching most terribly. I groaned and raised a hand to my puffy lips, smiling slightly. Angel…despite how terrifying he was, he was still my Angel. And a pretty amazing one too…

I gave him all the energy I could. It was a painful experience. I had blacked out soon after my attempt to impress him, and now that I was awake, I could feel no longer the presence of him in my Ring.

Wrong. I could still feel a lingering remnant of his soul somewhere in the back of my mind, but it was not as prominent as it had been before. Despite my fear, I wanted to cry. Was he going to leave me, now that I had proven to be too afraid to accept his proposal? I wiped my eyes and fought to remain strong. The Ring was still with me…hopefully tonight, I would still hear his voice.

But did I want to?

There was a knock on my door. And then another one. One of them was more hesitant and softer, and lower, while the other was higher and more aggravated. I whimpered and shut my eyes, pretending to sleep.

Regardless, Yugi opened the door. He entered tentatively, and at seeing me asleep, he turned around to hush whoever was with him.

"I don't care that he's sleeping!" a familiar, harsh voice retorted. "I do not care! I am going in!"

"Marik---" Yugi ushered urgently. "No…!"  
Too late. Marik had burst his way in. At the sight of me flinching though, he remained the door.

"Sorry," I heard him say. "Did I wake you?"

He knew he had awakened me. He knew I was awake. And I knew not to anger Marik when he was already rather peeved with me.

I slowly opened my eyes and gave him a weak smile. "Hi Marik…"

He looked at me carefully, his amethyst eyes narrowed and calculating. I prayed that he would not interrogate me and release his temper on me. I had by far seen what he could do when he was temperamental, and I certainly did not want to go through that experience.

But, his facial features softened slightly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I should've known I had always been his soft spot.

"Are you tired?" he asked. I nodded and even added in a fake cough.

"Y-Yeah," I said weakly. "Too much…singing," I lied lamely.

"Were you feeling ill when I had asked you for dinner?" asked Marik promptly. I wasn't sure if he was accusing me or not, so I nodded my head.

"I didn't feel well…I…fainted after you left," I lied. I hated lying, but there was nothing I could do. I could already feel the warning anger of my Angel in the back of my head. "Um..I'm still…very tired," I explained weakly. "Please…could I…sleep…"

"I'll get you some cough medicine," Marik said shortly, folding his arms and analyzing me. I smiled unsurely and cleared my throat awkwardly. He looked…very handsome today. His legs were dressed in straight, clean-cut black dress pants, and his button-up white shirt hugged his developed torso tenderly.

"Um…Ryou?" Yugi piped up timidly. I winced and turned to Yugi, wondering why he looked so afraid of me. "I just…wanted to tell you…they're playing Il Muto tonight and you….you have the silent role."

I blinked, my eyes wide open. "The silent role?" I repeated, my voice edged with a tint of hurt. Marik watched me carefully.

"I suppose it would do you good," he said. "You are, after all, sick aren't you?"  
I quickly regained myself, but I was still disappointed. "…Oh…yeah…sick," I echoed faintly. I lowered my head and rested my head against the pillow, suddenly very depressed. "Yeah…sick," I repeated faintly.

Marik was still watching me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to Yugi, gesturing discreetly to Yugi for some quiet time. Yugi, naturally intimidated by Marik already, left without much protest. Awkwardly, Yugi waved me goodbye, and shut the door.

As soon as the door had closed, Marik made his way to my bed. Without asking permission, he sat down on the side and raised a hand to forehead. I flinched away.

"You don't seem to have a fever," he muttered, though I couldn't tell if he was upset or just curious. "Are you sure you want to still play tonight?"

I closed my eyes sadly. "Why not?" I said quietly. "It's only the silent role."

Marik paused in his fever reading and looked at me. "…Don't be so sad," he commented. "Where have you been lately? If you come to practices more often, I'll make sure you get the lead role again. Madame Giry has been worried sick over you."

I winced and shook my head. "I'll be fine…" I whispered. "Don't worry about me."

Marik shook his head, and rested his hand against my hair. "You know I will."

Resting hands on my hair and stroking my strands were not normal fever-indicating procedures. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and welcomed his touch. It felt good to be near him again, after all this time. A twinge of fear in my heart reminded me that if I were to show affection to him, my Angel would surely punish him.

_Sacrifice…_

I bit my lip in fear. Oh no. Oh god no. Please not Marik…

He rested his hand on my shoulder, and began to stroke my back the way he had always comforted me as a child.

"Ryou…is something the matter?"

I wanted to cry, I wanted to whimper, but I couldn't. I couldn't tell Marik that his life was in grave danger because of me. I couldn't tell him that I liked him still. I couldn't tell him that I missed him.

I couldn't do it.

So I cried.

* * *

Malik POV 

I hated living there. In the darkness, suppressed. I was the only one who knew what he was planning, what was his sick game. I had to stop him. But I couldn't. I couldn't let him hurt Ryou any more. I couldn't let him hurt me anymore. It was just like that time in Egypt. That time so long ago.

The dancer boy was arrogant. Tall, handsome, but arrogant. He was hitting on me. Trying to bed me. I got mad, and I knew he had overheard.

Because next day I knew, when the boy was supposed to perform for my birthday, he was hanging on a noose, by his throat. His eyes were glazed, his tongue hanging out, his face purple. I remembered looking towards my side in horror, and seeing his dead eyes. The seriousness of his face as he turned towards me.

"I heard he upset you," he had said to me. So calmly. So coldly. But I knew behind those red-brown eyes, there was rage roaring in his heart. He had been angry. He had been furious at the injustice I had been subjected to. Just like the same injustice he had been subjected to when he was a kid.

I wasn't sure why I didn't just hate him then. Maybe it was because I still didn't hate him now. There was something about himself that I could not resist. But regardless, I had to stop him now. At least somehow.

I remembered the name of the play the dancer boy was supposed to perform.

_Il Muto._

* * *

Ryou POV 

It's showtime, and I'm hardly excited. Marik had comforted me until I had cried no more tears. I chalked it all up to just stress, just the fact that my father had recently died, and he understood. But I was certain that he knew more than what he was letting on. After all, I had seen the Rod poking from his belt. I knew he knew there was more than just my father's death that was bothering me.

We had a small argument, which ended in him storming away. I had cried a lot after that too. But now, as I prepared myself for my silent role, I saw him in the audience. I smiled weakly. He glanced at me and gave an apologetic smile. I nearly wanted to cry again.

"He seems to love you so much," Yugi commented shyly next to me. "He's been worried about you for the longest time."

I shifted awkward and withdrew my gaze. "Yeah…" I said distantly. "Love…"

Above me, Madame Giry clapped her hands. I readied myself. The play was about to start.

* * *

A/N So, I did this because I wanted to update quick, and because I thought one whole chapter of music was better than one half. So next chapter: Apollo's Lyre / All I Ask of You. The next chapter will have the scene of Il Muto, Bakura's sacrifice, and of course, "Why Have You Brought Us Here?" 

I hope you enjoyed this plot chapter! Lots of sining next chapter! R/R!


	11. Apollos Lyre All I Ask Of You

Chapter Eleven: Apollo's Lyre / All I Ask of You

Ryou POV

"_They say that this youth_

_has set my lady's heart_

_aflame!"_

_"His lordship would, sure,_

_die of shock!"_

_"His lordship is a laughing stock!"_

_"Should he suspect her, God protect her!"_

_"Shame Shame Shame!"_

I sighed sadly in my role, fiddling with my maid dress I was forced to wear. A sense of dread seemed to build within my heart, but I wasn't sure what it was. I listened idly and stole quick glances at the audience…particularly Marik…when I was bored.

I quickly did my acting and hopped over to Mai. She gave me a superior look through her makeup and waved her fan haughtily at me.

_"Serafimo, away with this pretense!"_ she sang. _"You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence…"_

I bent forward and mocked kiss her. She turned smugly away and waved her fan haughtily.

"_Poor fool, he makes me laugh!  
Haha, ha hah ah ah ah…  
Haha ha ha ha ah ah!  
Time I tried to get a better, better half!" _

I listened half-heartedly and raised my eyes up to the ceiling. There…there in the shadows. I frowned slightly. It almost looked like…a person…

"Poor fool, he doesn't know!  
Hoho,  
Hoho, ho ho ho oho ho ho ho ho!.  
If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go!"

Suddenly…that voice boomed over the chamber of the auditorium. I froze. Not him…it couldn't be him! Not now! I had been good!

"_DID I NOT INSTRUCT THAT BOX FIVE WAS TO BE KEPT EMPTY!"_

I gasped, covering my mouth in fear. "It's him! I know it! It's him!"

Mai looked at me sharply. "Your part is SILENT! Little TOAD…"

His voice seeped over the ceiling again. I paled.

"A toad, madame...?" his voice seeped, sweet with venom. "Perhaps it is you who is the toad…" 

Unbeknownst to the danger of the voice, Mai continued on in her part. As she sang, I couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency and dread welling up in my stomach. I quickly stole another glace at Marik, before I suddenly realized something.

My Angel. He was alive!

He was alive…he had his own body…_I_ _had_ _supplied_ him with his own body…

I stared at horror at Marik, who had caught my gaze and was looking at me strangely. No…not Marik…please Angel, not him!

In front of me, Mai continued her song. How she ended, however, forced me back to my present surroundings.

"_Serafimo, away with this pretense!"_ she waved her fan._ "You cannot speak but kiss---CROAK!"_

I was startled and stepped back, watching Mai in shock. Her eyes were wide open, equally terrified at what she had just done. Clearing her throat, she straightened again, and tried once more.

"_Poor fool he makes me laugh…Hahaha..haha-CROAK."_

The audience began to snicker, but above all of the little, snide chuckles, I heard the most chilling one of all. The only times I had ever heard my Angel laugh was when he was teaching me, and only then, they were soft, modest chuckles, as though he were keeping something from me. Now, his deep, enchanting voice sniggered in a string of insanity that rippled subtly throughout the auditorium.

Marik in the front row narrowed his eyes and raised his head, as though he had heard the voice himself as well. I whimpered fearfully and backed from my part on the stage. Mai was still croaking. The audience's laughter grew louder, more boisterous.

"CROAK!"

"_CROAK!"_

"**CROAK!"**

The audience was pealing with laughter, as Mai struggled to regain her voice. With a horrified scream, Mai covered her mouth and bolted from the stage, her pink dress ripping along in the way as the curtain dropped. The audience laughed again, chuckling in a most wicked, mocking manner. I felt embarrassed for Mai's sake. I also knew what it was like to be laughed like that.

As soon as she had bolted, Seto came running onto the stage, mike in hand. From behind me, Yugi grabbed my arm and tightened fearfully, as he often did when we were children. With as much gathered ground and professional air as possible, Seto tapped the mouthpiece on his microphone urgently.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentleman," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "Ladies and gentleman! We are experience presently some technical difficulties, naturally of course, not by KaibaCorp. We please request that you remain seated and _silent_ as to not affect our actors and their art!"

"What about Carlotta?" hissed Yugi from behind me, his voice much lower than usual. I turned to look at Yugi strangely. Huh…didn't that middle bang used to flop in front of his eyes…not streak up like that…?

Seto looked over at us, and glared at Yugi haughtily. With quick, sufficient paces, Seto managed to grab me around the arm and drag me to the front of the stage within three seconds flat. I nearly stumbled over my own feet again, being the little clumsy thing I've always been.

"And…in the unfortunate circumstances of Mai Valentine," Seto continued, "…the role of the Countess will now be played by Ryou Bakura, and will restart again shortly. Until then, we will give you the ballet scene of Act 5…Maestro…"

The little bald man with the white mustache in the front squeaked indignantly. "_What_?" he hissed, incredulously.

A cold glare from Seto, however, silenced him instantly, and within two seconds, the maestro had turned, (although muttering something about how he could not work under the circumstances), and Seto shoved me through the curtains.

"You have proven yourself to be a rather insolent little actor," he told me cuttingly, "and do not think of this as a promotion from your recent behavior. Under no circumstances do you sign up to become the lead role and deny your responsibilities! Is that clear?"

I nodded hastily, feeling just a little twinge of hurt that Seto had thought so lowly of me. He gave me a piercing stare and quickly shoved me to the side, before turning around the other way and strode away.

"Get off the stage, Bakura," he called as he went around the corner. "Act 5 dancers! Resume your positions!"

Squeaking, I quickly bustled my way to the sides, realizing that I was still on the stage. As soon as I headed into the wings, Yugi pulled me to the side and hushed me.

"It's okay, it's okay," he kept on telling me. I wasn't sure how he knew, but I was shaking most terribly. I weakly looked up towards the ceiling. Angel…not my friends, please Angel…not Marik…

I choked back a sob. How could my Angel turn dark like this?

"He's here Yugi," I whispered heartbrokenly. "He's here. I know it! It's him!"

"You mean…your Angel?" Yugi whispered. I nodded and bit my lip to stop myself from crying.

"He's here…he's going to hurt someone…he said something about a sacrifice…"

As I stumbled on my gibberish to Yugi, I poorly neglected the fact that in my ramblings, Weevil Underwood from beside me had slowly slipped away.

* * *

Bakura POV

Ah, it was most amusing to fool about with a body of my own. My sweet little angel…so naïve. Little Ryou, will you regret giving me such a wondrous specimen that is my new body? No….of course not…you love me, don't you, little Ryou? Yes you do…

My rocked my legs back and forth idly, enjoying my view from the dark, cold rafters above the stage. It was here where Madame Giry had clapped her hands and instructed her students, and it was here that I decided was the best place to hide.

I smirked and reached into my pocket with a gloved hand. Retrieving my fingers, I extracted a most deep, blood-red rose, and brought it to my nose. Ah, the sweet, intoxicating scent of the romantic rose…symbol of love, scent of lust…the very call card I plan to make.

I chuckled wickedly and pocketed the flower again, and lowered the brim of my top hat over my left eye. My right face was still incased in its mask, although this time, it wasn't to prevent Little Ryou from finding out my truest secrets.

The Shadow Games will begin again, Pharaoh. When you see my scar, then you will remember.

A soft footstep shuffled behind me. On my guard immediately, I turned and saw a little boy hiding behind the props. If it wasn't his green hair that ticked me off, but perhaps the gleam of his overly-large eyeglasses…

I stood to my full height, my cape billowing behind me. He squeaked and stood in fear, knowing that he was caught. I slowly smirked and bared one fang in my crooked grin.

He gave a whimper and bolted down the rafter, under the hanging strands of thick, noose-like rope. My smirk turned into a wicked, carnal grin. The sacrifice would me be made faster than I thought.

Let the games begin, Weevil Underwood.

* * *

Ryou POV

I remained in my wing, watching tensely as the girls danced.

Step one two three, one two three….

Thumping noises occurred in the rafters above us. I didn't bother to listen, too busy biting on my nail and watching the girls and Marik outside the curtains.

One two three and pivot…

The sheeps were pulled in. The audiences cooed in awe, and were obviously now in the air of utmost calm and tranquility. I whimpered and nervously tried to do my costume, the buttons and strings fumbling in my clumsy hands.

Step one two three, one two three….

From the back of my mind, a faint laughter echoed wickedly. A shock of energy jostled through me, as though from another side of the link.

Pivot…one two three and turn…

The laughing grew louder. I wanted to scream.

One…

I clamped my hands over my ears. The laughter hitched in the higher notes, echoing with insanity I had never heard of.

Two…

It was building, it was going to explode…the other side of the link…Angel…!

_Three._

Suddenly, something dropped down from the rafters. When I opened my eyes, Weevil Underwood was swinging to and fro in the air, a noose around his neck. His buggy eyes were empty and hollow, as though his very soul had been taken.

Chaos ensued. Girls screamed, audiences screamed, havoc ran amok. But I…I remained there, standing, watching in horror as I raised my eyes from the taut rope and up to the rafters…and saw him.

Him.

He was there.

Staring down at me, with those red-brown, crimson eyes. His mask was still in place, though shadowed from the darkness of the rooftop. His tuxedoed chest was draped with my own Millennium Ring, although it was glowing, as though alive with some truly evil force.

He watched me, unmoving. His expression was blank.

Something crashed into me. I saw Yugi darting out from next to me, running towards the stairs that led to the rafters. I wanted to scream no, don't do it, he's dangerous, but too late, someone else had crashed me into the wing. Next thing I realized, the audience members were running through the hallways, and that's when I realized.

Marik…!

I saw him push through the people and struggle his way towards the wing. As quickly as I could, I stood up, stumbling over my dress and grabbing his hand.

"Don't ask questions!" I begged. "Please, Marik, follow me!"

"Ryou!" he called, startled. "But Ryou----"

"No time!" I cried. "Please, Marik, just come with me!"

I forced our way out and into an empty hallway. There. Down the corridor. The stairways to the rooftop. They led to the other side of the school. My Angel surely could not get us there that quickly.

I tightened my grip on Marik's hand. We ran.

* * *

Marik POV

We made our way through the empty corridor and up a winding staircase. I struggled to keep my pace with Ryou, but my curiosity was getting the best of me. A man had just died!

"_Why have you brought us here?"_

"_Don't take me back there_," Ryou whispered.

"_We must return…"_

"_He'll kill you!"_ Ryou cried, turning to look at me hastily, before running up. "_His eyes will find me there…those eyes that burn…"_

"_Don't be ridiculous…"_

"_And if he has to kill a thousand men…"_ Ryou sang fearfully, "…_the Phantom of the Ring will kill and kill again!"_

"_There is no Phantom of the Ring…!"_

He shook away and continued up the stairs.

_"My god who is this man? Who hunts to kill?"_ Ryou cried. _"I can't escape from him…I never will…"_

I struggled to understand, but all I could do was sing with him to sooth his nerves. We climbed up higher, moving five steps at a time.

"_And in this labyrinth where night is blind…._

_…THE PHAAANTOM OF THE RING IS THERE…"_

We reached the top. Ryou burst through the door and onto the snowing rooftop.

"_Inside….my mind…"_

I stopped as soon as I had reached the roof and slammed the door. "_There is no Phantom of the Ring!"_

He turned towards me, his brown eyes wide and fearful. His fingers were clasped together in front of his unstrung bodice, the skirt of his costume ripped and revealing his jeans beneath them. The cold wind whispered through his hair.

"_Marik, I've seen him!"_ Ryou cried. "_Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever forget that face,…so distorted deformed…it was hardly a face in that darkness…"_ He turned away, his eyes wide and hollow. "_Darkness…"_

He turned to me again, grabbing my hand. "_Marik, I've been there! To his world of ending night! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness…" He closed his eyes and sniffed. "Darkness…"_

Slowly, Ryou turned away. Very slowly, he turned towards the fence around the roof, staring high up in the dark sky, as though seeing something only he could see. The snow continued to fall, resting against his cloaked shoulders, silently.

_"But his voice…"_ Ryou sang softly, _"filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound…In the night there was music in my mind! And through music my soul began…" _He slowly raised up his arms. _"…to SOAR…."_

I slowly came up behind him, and wrapped an arm around his waist comfortingly.

"_What you heard…was a dream, and nothing more,"_ I whispered.

Slowly, as though just realizing what had happened, Ryou sank into my arms. His hands weakly found mine and clasped onto them tenderly, just like he did when we were kids. When he spoke, however, his voice was long, distant, filled with something I wasn't sure of.

Pity? Compassion? Love…?

_"Yet in his eyes…"_ Ryou sang softly, "_all the sadness of the world…"_ He raised his head, and looked high up into the night sky. "_Those pleading eyes…that both threaten…and …a…dore…"_

For a moment, there was only silence between us. Offering any comfort that I had, I wrapped my arms tighter around his waist, and sang softly into his ear.

"Ryou…Ryou…"

In the distance, my voice echoed. Except…it didn't quite sound like my voice.

It was enthralling, enchanting. But I didn't care.

_"Ryou….Ryou…"_

I slowly turned Ryou around, and raised his eyes to meet mine.

* * *

Ryou POV

Somewhere in the distance, I wasn't sure. But I though…just as I gazed into Marik's beautiful eyes…I thought that maybe…I had just heard my father's violin.

Yes…yes it was my father's violin. It played the last few strands before Marik softly began to caress my cheek. His lips hovered just over mine.

_"No more talk of darkness…forget these wide-eyed tears…"_ He brushed away my tear. _"I'm here…nothing can harm you…my words will warm and calm you…"_

He paused and brushed away a strand of my hair.

_Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears._

_I'm here, with you beside you. To guard you and guide you."_

I looked up, my eyelashes sweeping open to reveal his amethyst eyes gazing deep into mine. My hands gripped his as I opened my mouth. My voice floated into the night with such hesitant softness, I wasn't sure if he even had heard.

_Say you'll love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. _

_Say you'll need me with you now and always. Promise me all you say is true. _

_That's all I ask of you._

He took a step closer to me. His hand continued to coax my face, ushering me to spill my heart's desire in a flow of heartwarmed words and melody. His gaze did not leave mine, and slowly, brought me closer to him. It was then when I noticed…the snow floating beautifully among his golden hair. His dark skin. His beautiful, amethyst eyes.

His voice…so warm, so low, such a beautifully, manly tenor…

"_Let me be your shelter. Let me be your light. _

_You're safe. No one will find you. _

_Your fears are far behind you."_

I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against his hand, my voice growing stronger, but shaking with tears. A droplet managed to trickle down my cheek and onto his hand. My heart quivered in tune with my admission.

"_All I want is freedom. A world with no more night._

_And you, always beside me. To hold me and to guide me…"_

With so much more confidence, Marik grabbed my hands tightly into his, shaking them slightly. His usually solemn eyes filled with a wave of compassion that nearly instantly, I was drawn into them once more. His hands managed to draw me into his chest, and his arms around my shoulders. His hair tickled against my nose as I rested against his warmth. He raised his head to the night sky, and when his voice soared into the night, it was filled with such loving protection that I had lived without for so long.

"_Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime! Let me lead you from your solitude!"_

He looked down at me, raising my face to meet his. His fingers stroked away my cold tear, warming it up, and melting it away.

" _Say you need me… with you here beside you. Anywhere you go…" _He cupped my cheek. His voice grew soft._ "..let me go too…."_

His voice. So low, so soothing. So quiet and so handsome. So full of…

His lips lowered and hovered just above my lips. His tender breath washed against my lips.

"_Ryou, that's all I ask of you…"_

Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes. Emotion bubbled just beneath the lid of my heart. Memories flashed of our moments togther…our days in the sun, our nights in the dark, our feet in the sand and our hair in the river. My scarf in the storm, my scarf in his hands.

I couldn't let Marik go. I couldn't let him slip away from me forever.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I launched into his arms. I wrapped my own around his neck, my own breath puffing in the cold against his lips, just an inch above my own. My tears spilled and flew along with the snow against my cheek. My voice took wing once more, and soared into the night.

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word, and I will follow you!_

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning!"_

I closed my eyes, and raised my lips against his. They shivered, just a millimeter away, quivering in tune with my whispered voice. Another tear slowly made it's way down my cheek.

"_Say you'll love me…"_

As though he had never even needed to be asked, Marik lowered his lips and kissed me. His lips were soft and supple against mine, so warm and tender against the cold of snow on mine. That same warmth seemed to melt the coldness that iced my lips, and instead, clasped our lips together. Marik closed his eyes.

"_You know… I do…"_

He slowly parted away from me, but his lips never departed father than an inch away from mine. His eyes were half-lidded in his usual solemn gaze, but behind that hard, silent mask of his…I saw his eyes. They were deep and rich…filled with every emotion alive. But most of all, they were filled with love.

He had always loved me, I realized. Ever since I tried to save him after his initiation…he had always looked at me like that. He had always loved me.

As though subconsciously, we drew closer to one another. Both of us lowered our heads, and just faintly, our foreheads touched. His hands found mine once more, and pressed them gently, silently pleading with me. I smiled sadly and choked back a tear. Marik…you didn't need to ask anymore.

"_Love me… that's all I ask of…you."_

Maybe I hadn't had to ask either.

As soon as those words had left our lips, something changed. The snow no longer seemed cold, and the air no longer seemed bitter. It almost felt as though a large weight had been released from my chest, and dissipated into the wind. The bitter sheets seemed like soft silk, breezing lightly around us. In the midst of the darkest, winter night, Marik and I felt warmth an spring between us.

And even in the distance, I could even hear an orchestra of violins. Especially the lead violin.

Marik heard it too. And he heard it beckoning us to return to each other, on cue. Just as Dad had taught us so long ago.

I looked up and raised a hand to his cheek. With newfound confidence, I opened my mouth, and sang as my heart bid me to do so.

"_Anywhere you go let me go too!"_

We hushed down as the violins fell to a whisper. Slowly, we began to draw to each other once more, our lips barely touching once more.

"_Love me… that's all I ask…"_

Our lips met once more. This time, I tiptoed closer, and shared with Marik, my own love.

"… _of…"_

We broke apart, but when we did, there were no more tears. Only the faintest of smiles.

"… _you."_

Slowly, we turned towards the night sky. The cragged peaks of the many houses ran along all the way to the end of the velvet horizon, blanketed with a cover of fresh snow. Very faintly in the wind, we heard my father's violin end with the sweetest of notes, before finally disappearing into the night.

Marik slowly slithered an arm around my waist. His breath washed over my ear as he whispered to me.

"We should probably get back," he breathed. "You'll catch a cold out here."

I sniffled and nodded, turning towards him. Though my eyes were still red and puffy, I raised them once more to see his, and saw that the love behind them had not left. I gripped his hand and pressed it unsurely.

"You've always loved me, haven't you?" I whispered. Marik's lips smiled softly.

"Took you this long to realize it, didn't you," Marik whispered back. "I told you. I didn't risk head and neck in a sandstorm just to get your scarf. I risked it so I could get it back for _you_."

I laughed weakly, feeling tears of gratitude and embarrassment leak into my eyes again. Marik's smile grew and he gently touched my cheek.

"Do you love me?"

At this question, I felt my heart sink. However, as I turned back to face the ominous statues grown on our rooftop, I had to admit the truth.

"I do," I whispered. "But I care for him as well. He's…my Angel. He's what my father told me he'd send for when he died. I can't…I can't go back on him on that."

"Ryou." Marik gently touched my arm. "The man killed a boy. He's no angel."

I hung my head. "Even so…I can't just leave him. He…He needs me."

"Does he love you?" Marik asked. I bit my lip.

"I…well…he says he hates love but…" I looked up again. "I can't leave him…"

Marik slowly turned, and managed to circle me until he was positioned right in front of me.

"If he loves you," Marik said quietly, "he will do anything to make you happy. And I know you would never want anyone hurt at your expense." Marik raised his hand and stroked my cheek. "I'll protect you from him. I promise. He may not be an Angel, but he is dangerous." Marik's eyes drifted down to the cord around my neck. "…The Phantom of the Sennen Ring."

I nodded my head, and leaned into his chest, feeling tears about to spill down my cheeks once more. "The Thief King Daddy told us about…" I whispered heartbrokenly. "Marik…I can't just leave him like this. He must have gotten though some terrible hardships to do the things he does now."

"I know," Marik said quietly. "But you can't just waste your life trying to help him. You weren't made for him." Marik wrapped his arms around me, and gave me a squeeze. "_We_ were made for each other."

I sniffled weakly and nodded, finally feeling my tears run down my cheek and into his shirt.

"I know," I whispered. I closed my eyes. "Love me?"

At this, Marik chuckled softly, and kissed the top of my head. For once, it felt good to be able to breathe again with Marik. It was as though I had been reborn: fresh, alive, and anew. Free from the pressures and devotion to my Angel.

"You know I do."

Smiling softly, I clung onto Marik as he led me back into the school. Even just before we entered, he produced a scarf for me around my neck; it was long and white, and had desert flowers embroidered on its edge.

I smiled, touched, and let him wrap it around my neck. I brought it to my nose. It smelled like Mum.

So forth, Marik led me back into the school. I never saw the shadow that had waited behind the statues all this time.

* * *

Bakura POV

I did not understand.

All this time…hadn't I shown him how much I cared for him? All this time, hadn't I showed that I was willing to do whatever he pleased, whatever he wanted? He wanted to grow strong, I granted that wish. He wanted to sing with confidence. I granted that one as well. All this time, I had paid him as though he were my landlord, with wishes. And this..this was how I was repaid?

So this was why he denied me his hand. He had been using me all along.

I lowered my head and brought a hand up to my masked cheek. A single tear trickled down my hidden scar.

He was afraid of my monstrosity, wasn't he? Knowing this scar made him realize who I truly was. As much as he pitied the great King of Thieves, there was no hope that he'd ever love such a creature.

Just as Malik had never loved the King of Thieves either…

I shoved that idea quickly out of my head, returning to mourn over my Ryou's betrayal. My tear trickled down my cheek and dripped from my jaw, and landed onto the black of my pants.

_"I gave you …my music. _

_Made your song…take wing…"_

I raised my head and closed my eyes, my heart burning in pain that I thought I would never feel again. What had been my mistake? This same betrayal happened three thousand years ago, and I corrected everything I knew. I approached him differently. I grew to care for him differently. I changed myself and my soul's room to adapt to him!

_"And now…how you repay me? _

_Denied me and betrayed me…"_

I opened my eyes and looked up into the night's sky. _"He was bound to love you…when he heard you sing…"_ The rose I had held between my hands slipped from my fingers. It landed onto the cold, iced snow, shattering the petals into its white oblivion. I collapsed into my knees, my tears no longer able to be held back.

_"…Ryou…Ryou…"_

In the distance, I heard their voices float up at me. They came from the window in the roof, where it was bright, warm, and loving. Their voices seemed to be entwined in such a beautiful duet, I began to clench my hands. Hate bubbled into my heart like never before.

_"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime…_

_Say the word and I will follow you…_

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning…"_

My fists shook. With all my anger, I burst from the statue and bared my soul to the skies and the earth beneath me. My arms rose in rigid rage, my voice booming and filled with vengeance I swore I would eventually have.

"_YOU WILL CURSE THE DAY YOU DID NOT DO…_

_…ALL THAT THE PHANTOM ASKED OF…"_

I took a deep breath, and bellowed the rest of my anger into the skies.

_"YOU!"_


	12. Intermission

Chapter Twelve: Intermission

Malik POV

_A long time ago…probably a few thousand years…I met a man._

_I was very young at the time. I think at the time, I was just…thirteen, possibly. All I remembered was that…the first day I ever met him; the first day I saw his crimson eyes and startling beautiful silver hair…. it had been the Prince's birthday._

_Tenth, or maybe ninth, it was. I don't remember._

_But after three thousand years…_

_I still remember him._

* * *

_I was thirteen. It was the Pharaoh's tenth birthday. The palace was lined with rich, royal purple curtains and draped with deep wine tapestries. The high windows had been opened to allow the light in, but blocked by thin, transparent silk to keep the heat out. This made the throne-hall-turned-dining hall shaded and cool. I remember longing to lounge in the many dancer pouffes lying about across the room. With the sun out of the way, the light breeze and perfect shade…indeed, palace life was the lap of luxury._

_I was a tomb-keeper. However, even though my initiation had been organized for three years before, my father had not passed away yet. As long as he was alive and well, my personal servant Rishid and I managed to convince the young Prince and his father to postpone my initiation. _

_Despite my fate as a tomb-keeper, I was a happy child. I was always curious, liking the outdoors more so than the in. I loved the luxurious things in life (naturally of course, as my best friend was the Prince of Egypt) and yearned for them like nothing else. I craved adventure, mystery, lust and …love._

_But of course, at the age of thirteen, the only thing on my mind was usually how to keep out of trouble for the numerous little crimes I had committed. Like hiding Seth's books…tearing the end of Pharaoh Ahknamkanon's cloak…breaking Sister's priceless scarab necklace…With all of these pesky little childish thoughts in my mind, I suppose I never had given a thought towards the needy, the sympathetic, or the poor._

_Even I didn't have much sympathy towards the commoners until the Prince's tenth birthday. As per custom, many of the royal nobles were expected to award the young Prince with new gifts. Since being ten was a bright coming of age (being thirteen, I was already in the prime of my life and ready for marriage….not that I wished for marriage.), all of Egypt was in great celebration. While the Prince sat at the head of the table next to his father, I sat on the Prince's other side, as his guest of honor and most of all, as his friend._

_After dinner, we watched as the dancers wove and in and out and sang to merry tunes. We watched as ambassadors brought in their servants to perform plays from far off lands. (It was in one of these plays when I witnessed Il Muto for the first time.) We laughed and drank and sniggered when the harem girls bowed low before the new Prince, each hoping eagerly to be his possible bride. _

_"Our young prince," they sang. "To you we hope to bring you to paradise."_

_I burst out laughing when Atemu flushed a rather bright red. His head was at least shorter than my shoulder, and from the way he sat on his wide, puffy cushion next to his six feet eight inch father, Atemu looked cutely like an embarrassed child who didn't know what to do._

_The Pharaoh gave a hearty laugh and dismissed the harem girls with a wave of his hand, saying that Atemu was not ready for such things yet. While the palace door opened to greet the more estranged members of the royal court, I bent over and whispered into Atemu's ear, "Bzzz. Bzz….MNH." He gave me a smack on the head and told me not to tell him ever again about the story about the bees and the birds. I snickered and returned to my seat._

_As the gifts neared the end, our last estranged member of the royal court, Nadir, walked in through the large, open doors. Seth, curiously enough, was also walking side by side with Nadir. I heard the Pharaoh shake his head with a sighing jingle of his headdress. I immediately understood. Nadir, being such an estranged advisor and guard, had enough wealth to bring the Prince any present in any land. Seth, however, was an orphan boy with not much past, little money, and only intellect and dependency to offer. As a result, he must have been pressured to give the Prince a gift, and must have collaborated with Nadir, who was one of his teachers in self defense._

_Nadir, tall, strong, and rather handsome, lowered his head in a bow. His head had been swathed in fine silks and a hood, complete with the rest of his luxuriously soft blue coat and sword. His face, however, held a sort of disheartened look, and I wasn't sure if I was the only one who caught it._

_"My Prince," Nadir bowed once more. "Permit me to offer you my gift."_

_"Explain your gift," Pharaoh prompted. Nadir remained in his bow._

_"Sir, it is a gift of great mystery and wonder," Nadir said quietly. "From distant and abandoned shores of Egypt's farthest canal, we found a desolate village and this small wonder. His voice is tremendous, his skill and craft so great…"_

_"You mean to say you found a servant?" the Pharaoh asked. I saw a brief flicker of a frown across Nadir's face._

_"Yes," he said very quietly. "A servant."_

_"And what else is so wondrous about him?" The Pharaoh nodded._

_Nadir slowly raised himself out of the bow and erected himself. "You will see for yourself." Nadir turned and waved his hand. "Bring him in."_

_Seth nodded his head and called for the guards to bring in this present. At first, though the ropes were pulled and the wheels were heard squeaking, I could see nothing. And then, suddenly, glinting in the light of the doorway, a cage was pulled through, cloaked and concealed in a royal red curtain. I jumped up to crane my neck to see. Seth turned back at us._

_"Behold!" he said. "The Child of Destruction!"_

_The curtain was then ripped away, and the crowd gasped at the cage's contents. Nadir closed his eyes and turned away, quickly gliding towards the Pharaoh. Atemu jumped in his seat and I launched out of mine, my eyes wide._

_There, sitting fearfully in the glinting cage, was a child. He could not have been any older than myself…perhaps just a one. But that was possibly where any of the similarities ended. While his entire body was caked with mud and dirt, it was obvious his skin was a pale, translucent white, pure and untouched as the floating lilies in the garden. His hair, at first sight of equal color, I noticed later were a rich, silky silver, soft and malleable as any of the Pharaoh's own jewelry. But his eyes…_

_…his eyes…_

_They were beyond anything I would have ever imagined. Bright, vivid and blood red, they brightened and shined like a pair of glittering rubies. They peeked out from the nest of messy silver hair and cragged bangs, darting out so swiftly that I was at once received the impression that the boy had the eyes of a snake._

_However, covering the rest of his face, was a mask. The mask was made from a rough, burlap type of material…scratchy, itchy, and hot. I watched in fascination as those blood red eyes glowed so beautifully from beneath his mask…something about him just made me yearn to touch his face and see if his face was as soft as the rest of his pale-skinned body…_

_However, I must have been the only person in the crowd to believe this boy as something amazing. The harem girls shrieked, the dancers leapt away, and the priests all gasped in horror. I looked around in confusion and realized: the boy was nothing like the rest of us. Dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and dark-haired. To us, he was a monster, an omen, an untouched creature that was not a creation of Ra. _

_Set…the god of Destruction…_

_Suddenly, the boy jumped alive from his curled, fetal position. In his full height, I realized that he was most definitely older than me…possibly by two years. His entire body was skin and skeletal, and the skin I once thought as soft and silky looked stretched and tight over his bones. I then realized that his wrists had been chained to the bars of the cage, as were his ankles. He looked like the most helpless yet dangerous of creatures, and the audience was certainly treating him like one._

_"What is that thing?" the dancers shrieked. "Such ugly pale skin!"_

_"He looks like he came from the dead!" another cried. _

_"THIS is supposed to be a gift to the Prince?"_

_  
"This MONSTROSITY?"_

_"It's not a monstrosity!" Nadir shouted from the Pharaoh's side. "It is a child!"_

_"It's a wicked child, obviously!" a servant mother shouted. "Oh, look at his wretched skin…I bet he comes right from that terrible village of cutthroats sent by Set himself!"_

_"You mean Kuru Erun---"_

_Suddenly, the boy snapped, and his head immediately snapped towards the woman and her companion. With a ferocious roar, he leapt at her from the cage, but was prevented from the chains. The shackles clanged and cackled terribly with his frenzied shouting._

_"YOU TAKE THAT BACK! YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"_

_"Stop provoking him!" Nadir yelled. Someone shrieked right back._

_"Why did you bring him here!"_

_  
"The child possesses magician skills!" Nadir retorted. "The boy is intelligent, the boy is witty, he is talented, he is a born singer straight from the heavens…"_

_"The boy is an ugly, concealed, monstrous freak!" _

_"Just like that terrible white-haired girl that brought the drought!"_

"SHE brought the drought?"

"But of course! And what will HE do? He'll send Set's destruction upon us all…"

_"SILENCE."_

_Suddenly, all the voices hushed into silence immediately, and everyone turned to look at the Pharaoh. He had risen to his fill six and some feet, tall and full and most intimidating. His glare, however, though firm, was soft and sympathetic as they trailed towards the shivering boy, standing there, naked except for a dirty, scratchy sarong and his mask. Ahknemankanon slowly nodded._

_"Nadir, why did you bring the child here?"_

_Nadir slowly stepped up from this place in the shadows, and raised his face. His eyes and lips were set in an expression of deep mourning and pity, but most of all, respect._

_"Because the child deserves a chance for his skills," Nadir said quietly. "He is extraordinary, even with his appearance."_

"_Why does he wear a mask?" the Pharaoh asked._

"_He bears a terrible scar that he says brings the power to destroy the world," Nadir __breathed. "When Fate allows it to been seen."_

_The Pharaoh nodded, and we watched as the masked boy slowly lowered himself onto his knees. He looked weak and faint and near death. I stood up suddenly._

_"I'll take him!"_

_  
Everyone gasped and turned to me, but I stood my ground. "If the Prince doesn't want him, I can have him!" I turned to Nadir. "I'll give him that chance. He can be my servant, and I can arrange any time with you so you may teach him."_

_The Pharaoh looked at me disapprovingly. "Malik, surely you have enough personal servants…"_

_I bit my lip and frowned. "Rishid is an admirable servant and I care for him deeply, but I can always take another under my wing." _

_"And are you up for that responsibility, Malik?"_

_I stood feverishly. "Yes, I am."_

_The Pharaoh nodded slowly and turned to Atemu. He gently patted the boy's shoulder._

_"Atemu? Do you want to have Nadir's gift?"_

_Atemu, who was watching the caged boy with wide fascination, slowly shook his head. "He…he looks frightening, Father," Atemu admitted quietly. "But I'm sure Malik can help him."_

_I grinned proudly. "Damn right."_

_The Pharaoh sighed and nodded his head. "Alright. Provided that you keep up your studies and make sure he is taken care of, I will entrust him to you, Malik." The Pharoah snapped his fingers and waved at the guards. "Take him to Malik's room. Do not harm him!"_

_"Just leave him in the cage," Nadir called. "I'll subdue him if anything goes wrong."_

_"No inhumane methods, Nadir!" the Pharaoh said sharply._

_Nadir turned and looked at the Pharaoh. For the first time, I saw a small smile flicker across Nadir's normally serious face._

_"Oh no no, Pharaoh," Nadir bowed. "Bakura and I get along quite well."_

* * *

Bakura POV, 3000 years previous

_I was afraid._

_Even in all of my fifteen years trekking the desolate sands and hills and mounds and the Sahara, I had never been afraid as I was then. The guards wheeled me away, but I was too weak to even realize where we were headed. The humility of being chained like a beaten animal ate at my pride, but as the guards pushed my cart away, I slowly realized that I had always been treated like a beaten animal anyway._

_As a small child, living in the dirty streets of Kuru Eruna, I had always been ostracized because of my demon-white hair and devil-light skin. In a far away town, I remembered hearing of a girl who had the same conditions I had, and she was rumored to have brought on the drought, the famine, and the locusts. As a result, my mother, weakened by my childbirth, constantly hid me away from harm's way. However, despite her efforts, I actually managed to make a couple of friends with my fevered determination and my rather cocky pride. I hadn't given a damn about my looks when I was a child, and for some reason, smaller children and little animals admired me for that, and trailed about me as though I was a leader._

_Among them, though I was feared in Kuru Eruna, I was also respected. I had power._

_My mother, however, was the kindest. Looking ten times older than she truly was, she always managed to keep after me, even after my father left the family for someone more worthy. She hadn't left me, even though I was certain that with her dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin and my pale hair, blood red eyes, and pale skin, slowly, I was driving her mad from pressure._

_She would come back home with scratches and bruises on her face. When I asked what had happened, she always dismissed me and quickly made my supper to distract me. Later I found out that most of my littler friends had been punished by their parents to keep away from me, and through hatred, they had stoned my mother back to her house._

_I got angry that time, and left in an uncontrollable rage .My mother caught me before I could do something stupid, and quickly rocked me back to calmness. When I nearly dozed off in her soft arms, I felt her hot face in my back, and her tears trickling down my skeleton spine._

_Now, lying here in the cage, I wondered why I had survived. Why I was here in the palace, and why when Nadir, the only man who had ever caught me stealing, was giving me up to a sickening group of high-class murderers. After that particular disaster, my very soul was filled with a monster more twisted than that of my scarred face and wicked skin…_

_At some point, the world before me turned black. I faintly heard the squeaking of the wheels as my cart was rolled into a large, luxurious room. I bristled a bit at the faint, fuzzed vision of peacock headdresses, linen mattresses, cool alabaster and mounds of gold. The rich, the mighty, the royalty…how they made me sick with their spoils and their pillage!_

_I landed forwards onto my front in a collapse. The chains around my wrists and ankles echoed coldly behind me as my vision gave way. However, as I was about to slip into my blessed unconsciousness, I saw the door open, and blearily, I saw a boy._

_A boy with such beautiful…lavender eyes…_

* * *

_Malik POV_

_I waited a long while before the boy finally stirred. The guests were all still attending the banquet, and graciously, his Majesty had permitted me my absence. So, I decided to use my time wisely. I watched as my new white-haired servant struggle to regain his consciousness._

_When I saw him twitch, I succinctly asked the guards to leave the premise of my room. If he were to do me any harm, he could not get at me from the cage. If he was dangerous, Rishid was always behind me, the great servant that he was, and he would always protect me._

_The guards twiddled their ways out of my room, looking back nervously at the masked boy. When the door finally shut, the boy gave a groggy moan and raised his head. I sat on a nearby pouch of pouffe and crossed my arms, watching him steadily. _

_He slowly sat back on his haunches, looking from side to side blearily, like an animal reawakened from hibernation and curious of his new surroundings of spring. When his red eyes caught sight of me, immediately, an animalistic hiss escaped his lips and he jumped to attention, his arms raised for defense, his legs coiled to pounce. Rishid was up immediately from his corner to protect me._

_I raised my hand to command Rishid down. He obeyed and slowly sat behind him, watching my new servant wearily. The white-haired boy glared at me menacingly, but I could tell from his protruding ribs and obvious malnutrition, this boy was as capable of hurting me as a wounded jackal._

_"Calm down," I smiled. "I'm not going to hurt you."_

_The boy didn't reply, but I saw his wide red eyes glower and narrow at me suspiciously, obviously disbelieving my words. I smirked slightly and stood up slowly, putting my hands behind back calmly. "You can just relax. I'm not going to hurt you."_

_He did not relax, but I saw his hands falter and shake slightly in confusion. He was unarmed, apparently starving and previously beaten, and yet, I was not harming him. This seemed to be a new concept to him, one that he had never heard of before._

_When I saw that he didn't relinquish his suspicion, I sighed and showed my hands._

_"Look. I am unarmed, my guards are outside, and Rishid will not harm you unless you do me danger. Now…" I took a step closer to the cage. "Will you calm down?"_

_The boy breathed heavily, watching me warily through the holes in his mask. His narrowed eyes narrowed even more, but he dropped his arms._

_"You say you will do me no harm, and yet I am in a cage," he said simply. I was mildly surprised by his voice. Though rough from lack of water, it still had a very soft and manipulative texture to it…like a perfumed breeze of a serpent's slither. _

_I nodded and shrugged. "You needn't be." _

_His eyes flashed at me. "Why am I here?" he demanded, his voice losing its soft tenderness and now harsh and hard. I clucked my tongue and looked at him shrewdly._

_"That's no way to speak with your savior."_

_"Savior my ass!" he shouted at me. He grabbed one of the bars of the cage and threw the chain at me. "Release me at once!"_

_"You certainly have a lot of gratitude for someone who saved your life!" I retorted sarcastically. "Look, mister, I just saved your life back there. Did you want to become a slave to the palace prince?"_

_"And what am I now regardless?" he shot back at me sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and huffed._

_"At least I will not treat you as a slave so long as you don't treat me with such crudeness." I crossed my arms and huffed at him. "Sit down, for Ra's sake! I'm not going to hurt you!" To show my frustration, I stalked away and landed grumpily onto my pouffe. I stared out of the nearby balcony window darkly._

_Slowly, I heard the faint clinking of the chains as I heard him slowly sink to his knees. Faintly, I could still hear his rasped breathing, as though he was still wary and cautious of me. Nevertheless, after a few minutes passed away, I heard him sit onto the ground of the cage, and the chain clacking emptily on the floor._

_His voice floated towards me, and once again, it was soft and quiet._

_"What are you going to do with me?" Regardless of its silky texture, his tone clearly ended with a harsh, wary warning, as though he was suspicious that I might still hurt him. I sighed and turned to look at him sharply._

_"Nothing," I said again. He scoffed at me._

_"As if. If it was nothing, I wouldn't be here," he sneered at me. I rolled my eyes._

_"Will you quit it? I brought you here so you wouldn't be the prince's boy toy. To be frank, I actually don't know what to do with you." I looked away thoughtfully, thinking deeply. "Ah! I know! You shall be my companion!"_

_"Companion?" the white-haired boy repeated dully. "Right. And you prefer your bosom companions locked up in a miserable cage and chained to the bars? What interesting tastes…"_

_I rolled my eyes again. "You are insufferable!"_

_"So I've been told," he replied back silkily. _

_I threw my hands out in exasperation. "Look, buddy. Show me some gratitude for helping you out so much! Would you rather be my 'bosom' companion rather than to become some dirty labourer or a worthless servant?"_

_"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" he snapped at me. "As your 'bosom' companion?"  
"I don't know!" I yelled at him. "I nev---"_

_I quickly shut my mouth, and glowered at him. For a moment, his dark eyes suddenly twinkled curiously, as though he hadn't expected to take me aback. He slowly cocked his head to one side quizzically. I glared at him and looked away._

_"I never really had any friends," I mumbled to him. Despite my back being towards him, I could feel his slight surprise. Granted, that was abruptly changed to his usual brash and inconsiderate attitude._

_"Oh, a pity prince," he mocked. "What, does the little prince have no one to play with?"_

_"Shut up!" I snapped at him. "If you really don't want to be with me, then I can send you right back to where you were! Any other decent person would at least accept this type of consideration, except for you! Well fine!" _

_I stomped my foot and stomped towards the cage. With all my strength I pushed against it, shoving it towards the door._

_"If you really want to just be on your own, then FINE WITH ME!" I yelled. "I don't need your ungrateful presence anyway! GO AWAY!"_

_"OW!"_

_In my unexpected shove, I hadn't realized that I had pushed so hard that he had fallen over. A sudden concern struck me when I saw him huddled on the ground, nursing something that I could not see. When he turned to give me a little scowl, I saw blood smeared on his mask._

_"You're hurt!" I gasped. _

_Quickly, without a thought, I rushed to the door of the cage and struggled to unlock it. While was busy trying to open the cage door, the white-haired boy immediately jumped and swayed on his feet, before landing weakly against the farthest corner of the cage. When the door was open, I sighed and rushed to his side._

_"You're so stupid," I muttered. "No no! I'm not going to hurt you! Geez…"_

_He stared at me through wide eyes behind his mask. I slowly sat onto my haunches and reached out my hands, gesturing to him that I was trying to help him. For a moment, all his darkness and rage behind his eyes were gone, and instead, they were replaced with something so innocent, so confused that I was suddenly struck with the idea that… despite his pillaging and rough attitude, he was still a child…deep inside._

_His eyes…they reflected such innocent confusion that for a moment, I had to wonder whether the boy had ever known kindness before. The entire situation that I'd help him seemed so new to him that he suddenly looked…rather helpless._

_I slowly inched my hands towards his arms, where he was hiding his left hand with his right arm. He flinched and tried to snarl at me, but I gently rested my hand against his hair, and softly caressed his strands._

_Oh, what marvelous silk…_

_He flinched at my touch and looked at me with such utmost confusion I immediately lost my temper. Instead, I focused on calming him down and taking care of his wound. Without even considering how he would react if I got too close, I immediately crawled over his legs in effort to reach his left hand._

_"What…what are you doing?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. I didn't look at him, but instead reached towards his left hand._

_"Helping," I said simply. With my hand on his right wrist, I gently managed to pry his hand away from his left, and eyed the bleeding, discolored slash on his left arm. "What happened?"_

_He looked ate me bewilderedly for a moment, before staring embarrassedly at the ground. "Chain," he mumbled. "It's nothing….landed on it in a bad way I guess…"_

_His breath hitched when I gently brushed my fingers over the wound. When I pulled his wrist towards me, I was met with little effort. For this, I smiled._

_"I hope it's not infected," I said softly. I heard him make a confused, puzzled sort of noise from the back of his throat as I inspected his wrist. "Infections are nasty business."_

_I slowly pulled his arm towards me, gently so I wouldn't jostle him. My eyes followed up his bony arm and trailed along his equally skeletal shoulders. Below them, his ribs stuck out at me, clearly seen from his light, pale skin._

_I then realized that his skin wasn't only just naturally pale, it was also sick._

_I quickly turned to Rishid. "Rishid! Get me some bandages and a cover and pillow and a mattress! And water! And food!"_

_Rishid rose and bowed hastily. "Yes, Master Malik." Quickly, he left the room to obey my words. I returned to the white-haired boy and gently rubbed his arm underneath the cut._

_"You're sick," I said quietly. "You really need to take better care of yourself."_

_The white-haired boy didn't reply, merely staring transfixed on my fingers as I soothed them over his wrist and arms. I smiled and rubbed his upper arm in effort to comfort him._

_"We'll get you something to eat," I said. "You look like skin and bones! And are you warm underneath that mask? Do you have a fever? Or a cold? Don't worry…. we'll get you someplace warm to sleep. If Rishid doesn't come back with some mattresses or a blanket, I'll ask the guards to take out these chains and you can sleep in my bed."_

_He looked up. "Your…bed?" he repeated at me._

_I nodded. "Yeah. I mean, after we give you a shower and all…you smell pretty bad." I flashed him a grin and brightened when I saw a hesitant, unsure one in return. "What's your name?"_

_My new companion raised his eyes and looked at my strangely. His gaze returned to my hands, so tenderly holding his wrist. "…Why do you want to know?" he asked warily._

_I sighed exasperatedly and moved the cuff of the chain further down his wrist so that it would not agitate his wound. "Well, since you'll be living with me from now on," I said cheerfully, "I need to know what to call you."_

_His eyes glinted carefully at me. "Don't palace brats usually call their servants 'slave' or something degrading of the sort?" Though his words were harsh, his tone was quiet, as though he was just making sure of something he didn't quite understand. I blew my bangs from my eyes._

_"Not all 'palace brats'," I huffed. "I'm a servant too, technically. And I always call my servants by their names anyway."_

_"Why?" he asked._

_"Cause they're special to me," I replied. "You don't call someone you think is special 'slave' or 'stupidhead' or 'jerk'."_

_"And me…?" he asked quietly, letting the question linger._

_I gently wrapped my hand around his wound, letting the blood soak my sleeve. He looked at me with such pure puzzlement that I regretted being so mean to him in the beginning. With a smile, I raised his hand to my cheek, and gave it a small nuzzle._

_"What's your name?" I asked gently. He looked at me unsurely._

_"…Bakura."_

_I smiled cheerfully and nuzzled his hand. "Then that's what I'll call you from now on."_

* * *

_Bakura POV_

_I was astounded. This….beauteous thing of a palace brat, willingly touching my demon skin? _

_And the way he said my name after that…"Bakura"…my name had always been mixed with something akin to contempt and disgust, but falling from his lips, my name sounded like some heaven god._

_And his name as well. After his servant had returned, he insisted I call him by name. After all, I was now a 'companion'…not a servant, not a slave, not expected to do much other than stay by his side. _

_"My name is Malik," he said happily at me. "And you'll hang out with me. We'll always be together. Bakura and Malik."_

_Bakura and Malik…those two names felt so awkward on my tongue. I was also confused to his personality. One moment, he was a fiery, hell-spitting, back-talking, impudent, stupid little jerk…and then the next, he was smiling at me all happily, like a little child who had found someone to play with. Like a cute child who had found someone to play with._

_I fell unconscious after that. His servant fed me some potion to help relieve the pain and help me regain back my nutrients, but I was too tired to do much. Though Malik wanted to move me, the incompetent guards had lost their keys, and for the night, I had to remain in the cage. Regardless, Malik stayed by my side as Rishid expertly bandaged my bloody wrist up, which had been scratched raw from the tightness of the chain and burned from the hot metal. _

_I fell asleep next to an angel that night. Too bad I was too delirious to remember much._

_But as I drifted away to darkness, I remember feeling his soft hand, resting against my mask. _


	13. By Susan Kay

Chapter Thirteen: By Susan Kay

Bakura POV

_As the weeks slithered by and the months sneaked away, I found myself actually getting used to palace life. Granted, it was hard to get used to it in the beginning: what with the soft beds, my coarse language, and Rishid always keeping a wary watch on my itchy fingers. Although I was officially Malik's servant, I had a good amount of freedom, and it took me a while to get used to that._

_But some things never changed. Regardless of poverty life or palace life, my mask was still the mystery among the people, my white hair a frightening omen, and my pale skin an abomination. Wherever I went, people stared at me: servants gawked, mothers hid their children, and none of the teenaged boys wanted to be near me. Since I was fifteen, I was ripe enough for a married life, but no woman, servant, slave or otherwise, ever came up to me._

_I never really cared much for romance, so I wasn't that hurt when I realized that I would never find another woman who would ever be interested in bedding me. Perhaps I was fortunate to be spared with the ignorance that there was more to a woman than sexual need; therewas also love, and that for sure, I would not ever have. Who could ever love someone as strange as me?_

_Malik had once told me that I should not be bitter about my appearances and the past that they had granted me. Of course, at that point in time, he hadn't been aware of my past and its true, morbid extent, but I was curious to what he had to say. He had sort of winked at me and told me that it wasn't my pale skin and white hair that kept on ticking him off; it was my sharp tongue and stubborn, violent attitude that was my undoing. I had sort of oggled him in a confused, incredulous expression, and he had laughed and patted me on the back._

_As I grew to get used to palace life, Nadir often came by to see me. When I was much younger, possibly seven, Nadir had found me picking my way through Egypt's poverty life through stealing. I wasn't sure what type of potential he saw in me, but rather than stopping me when I dared to enter someone's house, he merely watched me._

_When I had finished my business of pantry-raiding, he had been waiting for me outside. It was night when I first met him, and I was startled to see that I had been caught._

_He was much taller than me then, looking down upon me with a strange sort of fatherly firmness. My arms had been full of hard bread and a couple of fruits, and my cheeks where bulging of dried meat. I remember staring up at him dumbly, with wide eyes, wondering how the hell was I supposed to worm my way out of that situation._

_To my surprise, Nadir didn't turn me in. Instead, he allowed me to continue stealing at my will, and often, he would meet me sometime during the night and stay as my companion. I became to appreciate his company and actually soon enjoyed it._

_So when palace life became too much for me to handle, I was glad that Nadir often dropped by to give me lessons. Most of the such lessons were physical combat, self defense, and even how to read and write. When I had mastered that, he even taught me the religion of my people, the mystic beliefs, and not only that; Nadir also taught me the mysteries of the world._

_I was very much interested in occult, divination, tarot reading, palm reading. In truth, in some aspects I was mostly interested in the mystery of magic. Perhaps some part deep inside of me, I had hoped that perhaps if Ra had the power to prevent a drought, or defeat Seth, or turn an evil man good, maybe he could change my fate. _

_As the years passed by, I found myself slowly forgetting my misery. Rather than being Malik's 'slave', I was exactly as he described to me as: a play-date. A companion. Someone to sit and talk to. I used to comment about how stupid it was to expect me on his bed ready to talk, but Malik had retorted that I should've only talked when I actually had something decent to say. I had smiled._

_There were many things I could talk to Malik about. After the cage was removed, Malik offered for me to sleep in his bed until my cot arrived. Even though I had been disgruntled and expected some sort of mockery, my suspicions all disappeared when Malik and I ended up talking endlessly into the night, snuggled warmly against one another under the sheets._

_We talked about life, we talked about philosophy, we talked about the stories we used to hear and the songs we used to sing. Malik was very interested in music (granted, he was interested in a lot of things), so when I felt particularly stronger and a bit more happier, I felt inclined enough to sing some of the songs from my village. Kuru Eruna used to have festivals every month. Now it was empty. Echoing and empty._

_Yet, when I sang to him, I realized that the memories were suddenly a lot less harder to bear. When I allowed my voice to carry to his ears, lulling his eyes into an enchanted sleep, I found that with each note that flew from my lips, another weight seemed to be lifted from my chest. Singing to Malik songs from my old village strangely seemed to help me adjust to my life at the palace: forgetting my old life in a miserable, dead village, and moving on to my new life; happier, more comfortable, and with more companions than I had ever had in my life._

_Although I liked singing and I liked music, I was not one to sit around and do nothing. Nadir often tried to encourage my musical talent, saying that although my voice was a coarse tenor, with proper training, it'd be the most miraculous gift of music Egypt had ever seen. I, however, was never interested in sitting in front of some sheets of paper all day, trying to hit the right notes or extend my lungs to accomodate that one long melody. I liked the outside. I had always liked the outside. I liked the wind and the sun on my bare, naked face, but when will that ever happen?_

_Malik had seemed to notice this, and he himself did not like being locked up either. When Nadir had finallly convinced me to at least practice my voice to sing at the upcoming Pharaoh's ball (why I agreed, I'll never remember), Malik thankfully interrupted us and asked me to come outside._

_Ignoring Nadir's exasperated frown from under his turban, I followed Malik through the winding halls and out the back, garden doors. He led me through the garden and the gazebos, past the little rivers and ponds, and finally, to the very back of the garden, where the walls were shaded and hidden by the trees. It was behind these trees he stopped, and turned to look at me._

_His eyes sparkled in a strange, yet beautifully wistful way as he stared at me. I felt his eyes rake from mine to my face, my mask. I stiffened. Even though Malik and I had gotten closer, I still didn't dare let anyone touch my mask. My mutilation was my fate...I was not to show it to anyone unless the time was right._

_I don't even remember who told me that...perhaps it was my mother when she died protecting me..._

"Bakura, don't! Don't go near the edge! Keep away from the edge!"

_But why must I always keep away from the edge? Why must I?_

"Never show your face!"

_Why Mother...why? Even I am not familiar with the face behind my mask...I never really looked...afraid that Ra might strike me down if I did._

_I lowered my head and turned away from Malik's gaze. Slowly, I felt him reach up a hand, and rather than stroking my face like I thought he'd would, he softly brushed away my hair._

_"No one will see," Malik said, his voice gentle and sweet. "Even I won't look. But you don't want to keep being locked up all the time, do you?"_

_I paused, cherishing the soft caresses in my rough hair. My fists trembled unsurely. Malik tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear._

_"I'll close my eyes and look the other way," Malik whispered. "I promise I won't look."_

_I closed my eyes and felt his fingers briefly skim the edge of my mask. I bit my lip and took a halting breath._

_"Promise?" I whispered._

_Malik's eyes glittered beautifully and he smiled, nodding his head. He stood up straight and closed his eyes, covering them with his left hand, as his right hand slowly slid from my hair, to my chin. Here, his fingers closed lightly on the edge of my burlap mask and stopped, as though he was silently asking for permission. I closed my eyes and felt the tempting first breath of air when his fingers first lifted my mask; with a deep sigh, I nodded my head, and he swept off my mask._

_I never turned to look if he really kept his promise. My eyes were closed the time as I felt the wind against my cheeks. My very pores had never felt more revitalized, refreshed and breathing every breath of air that floated through the trees. Even the rays of the sun peeked through the leaves, and I cherished the warm droplets I felt against my face. My right side of my face burned slightly from the new experience of it all; since it was that side that was mutliated, it was a lot more sensitive._

_I took my time appreciating the only moment I had ever been allowed to bare my face. I took deep breaths, forcing myself to hold back the tears of adolescent, wasted years. I tried my best to not cry at touching mercy of Malik, who I had not heard yet scream, faint, or gasp in horror. I could only have hoped that he wasn't looking in silent fear, or whether he had died straight away from my cursed face._

_I slowly lowered my head, not wanting to tempt Malik to look. My mask, still in Malik's hands, were still and patiently waiting for me. I let a touched, bewildered smile grace my face for one moment. Malik had his back turned to me, both hands covering his face, my mask nearly in his nose, and he was taking deep, excited breaths from my mask. _

_I slowly reached out a hand and, just for a moment, hesitated. I had never touched anyone before; most people didn't like the idea that I could have physical contact with anyone. When Malik and I shared that bed those nights, I always had curled up in a protective ball and he was the one always holding me, stroking me, cuddling me. He was an affectionate thing, but would he allow me to touch him?_

_I bit my lip and just tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't look," I quickly said, noting that he was going to turn around. "Just give me the mask."_

_"You finished?" asked Malik, his voice muffled from behind my mask. "Already?"_

_I blinked. "...You expected me to take longer?"_

_Malik shrugged, still not relinquishing my mask and breathing deeply. "Iunno...maybe? You like the sun, right? I can wait."_

_I smiled faintly, touched by his compassion and consideration. I reached forwards and briefly skimmed my fingers over my mask._

_"You just don't want to give up my mask, do you?" I joked. For once, my voice was void of bitter sarcasm. Malik burst out into giggles and buried his face into the burlap._

_"How can you stand such a thing?" he asked me. "It's so scratchy and hot. It smells nice though..."_

_I quirked an eyebrow. "It smells nice?" I asked dryly. Although he was hiding behind my mask, I could tell that Malik was blushing._

_"Well...yeah," Malik admitted cutely. "But um..." He straightened himself again, and turned to me. "My eyes are still closed. I can wait a bit longer if you want to stay."_

_Once again, I was touched by his consideration. I shook my head and touched my mask again._

_"It's okay," I said quietly. "This is enough."_

_Nodding quietly, Malik slowly released my mask, and quickly lowered his head so he would not see my face. I was about to readjust my mask to my face when I saw how he fidgeted. It wasn't a frightened sort of fidget, it was more of the one of impatient curiosity. The ones he'd get when he couldn't wait to examine or see or ask about something._

_I looked at my mask in my hands, and looked back at his golden hair. _

Why must I keep away from the edge?

_I slowly placed a hand on my mutilated cheek. Even I wasn't sure how bad it truly was...but Malik...could I...?_

Never show your face!

_But to who, Mother? To who?_

If you show your face, they'll hurt you, child.

_What if they won't hurt me?_

They will, baby, they will.

_Mother!_

_I bit my lip and sighed. Fingers trembling, I lowered my mask, and gently tapped Malik on the shoulder again. He quirked his head up a bit, as though asking if I was finished with my mask. I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up._

_"No, wait," I said quietly. "...You want to see my face, right?"_

_He seemed startled, but quickly shook his head. "If you don't want to show me, you don't have to..."_

_"I want to," I said softly. "I want to."_

_Malik seemed to stiffen, and I could feel awe and excitement and touched delight pour out of him in droves. He wasn't afraid, I realized. He was eager to see my face. To laugh or to mock, I wasn't sure, and for a moment, I faltered, unsure if I could trust him. But on little hand on my wrist soothed me, and I then realized that he would never mock me for my face._

_I dropped my mask to my side, and stood up straight. Keeping my eyes straight ahead of me, I slowly brought him up to full height. His head was still bowed._

_"You can look now." I closed my eyes. "You can look."_

_I felt his hair shift against my hand as he lifted his head. A small gasp issued from his lips, and immediately, I blanched. Had I destroyed him? Had I destroyed the only friendship I had? Ever? What had ever convinced me that if I ever showed him my face, he wouldn't hate me like everyone else? Fear me?_

_I was about to curse myself for my stupidity when I felt a light touch against my horrendous cheek. A small tear slipped out of my eye against my will, and I lowered my head, yeilding to his touch. I cursed myself for such a terrible display of weakness, but Malik did not show contempt towards me for it. Rather, he softly slid his hand down my cheek, along my jaw, and finally, cupping my chin. A small, soft thumb brushed away my tear._

_"It's not that bad," Malik said suddenly. "I don't know what everyone's making a fuss about."_

_I was surprised. Startled, I instantly opened my eyes, and saw his violet ones staring right back at me. They weren't wide-eyed and small-pupiled in fear, or even flashing hatred or contempt. Instead, they shone at me wtih a strange sense of confusion, and even ...sympathy? Beyond those two emotions, I could not read the rest of his eyes. They seemed to glow at me with more than just compassion...the twinkle seemed to be that of awe...and the clouded amethyst shade seemed to be..._

_I bit my lip and shook my head. No, I wasn't thinking straight._

_"What did you say?" I asked, not sure if I heard him right. _

_Malik leaned his head to one side, as though analyzing my face to see if it looked better that way. "...I said," he repeated. "That it doesn't look that bad. One side of your face isn't even ugly."_

_His eyes suddenly lost that glassy look, and they suddenly regained a certain sharpness to them, as though he had just caught and corrected himself. He touched my left cheek. "Really. Like, there's nothing even here. No blemishes, nothing. It's not even ugly. It's..."_

_"It's what?" I asked, my eyes wide open. "It's what?"_

_Malik softly blushed, and quickly dropped his hand. "Nothing," he stuttered, looking away. "It's nothing. It's not even ugly." He turned to me again. "Your right side isn't that bad either. It just...kinda gives youa really...evil look."_

_"Evil?" I repeated. "Malik, don't spare me the euphemisms. What does my face actually look like?"_

_Malik frowned a bit, as though thinking hard. He scratched his head._

_"Well...I mean...it's kinda scary, I guess, but not in an ugly way. Your scar...it just...it cuts along your cheek like from your eye so it makes you look a lot more meaner than usual," Malik paused, and his eyes twinkled. "IF that's even more possible..." Malik smiled. "But I mean...I could get used to it. It's just...it's not ugly. It's just..." Malik thought about his word again. "Unique." He finally said. "It's different."_

_I stared at him, gawk-eyed and stupid. Finally regaining my composure, I shook my head in an aggravated manner._

_"You mock me," I said snappishly. "Don't try to cover up your fear with petty words. It's hideous, I know."_

_"You never even looked at yourself, have you?" asked Malik hotly. "It really isn't that bad. I don't know what everyone's talking about, I think they're just afraid of your hair and your scar. Your scar might look really scary, but it's not ugly. It's just ...very piercing, I guess."_

_I wrinkled my nose. "And you're not afraid?"_

_Malik stood up to his full height and puffed up his chest. "No I'm not," he said defiantly. "I think they're stupid to keep on making fun of you this way. You really aren't that bad looking."_

_Strangely enough, I felt as though Malik meant that in a different way, but I payed no attention and resumed putting my mask back on. I felt genuinely surprised that he was not afraid of my face, but I couldn't let it show. Malik had always been a different person than anyone else I ever knew._

_Malik quickly stopped me._

_"Don't put that mask back on ever again," Malik said firmly. "Your left side of your face isn't even ugly. I'm going to ask Rishid to make a good mask for you...one that covers only half your face, the side that everyone's afraid of. Then people will see that you're not as bad as they think you are, and that way, you can at least be more comfortable. That thing was suffocating!"_

_I stared at him, my eyebrows arched in an expression that clearly said that I thought him as mad. He huffed impatiently and snatched my mask away, and tore it promptly in half._

_"Malik!" I yelled. "What the hell?"_

_"It's not healthy for you to wear this mask," Malik said shortly, letting the pieces fall to the floor. "Here." He promptly bent over and ripped a large strip of his own cloth belt, made with the finest silk and linen Egypt had to offer. Since I was a servant, even my garments weren't as comfortable as his. He tore his cloth belt up and took out his dagger from his sandals, and promptly poked two holes in it._

_"Here," he said, handing it to me. "Wear it until Rishid can get you a good mask. We'll make it out of plaster...or maybe even alabaster! Or glass! Glass is easy to mold and we can fit to adjust to your face! Then you'll always be comfortable!"_

_I looked at him dumbly, taking the silk mask in my hands. He scratched his head again and seemed to be thinking something deeply._

_"I know..." he said slowly. "Bakura, you're playing at the Pharaoh's ball, right?"_

_"Right," I said stiffly, not liking to be reminded that I still had a score to practice. "Why?"_

_Malik smiled. "I hear it's a costume ball!" he said excitedly. "We all dress up and dance and stuff! Wouldn't it be absolutely specially_ elegant _for you if you came to the ball wearing a mask? We'll make a mask made especially for you that night...one full one to cover your whole face while you perform, and then, at the end of the performance when you dance with me, you can wear your half-mask! Rishid and I will get your masks made so prettily...oh, Bakura, you're going to look so beautiful!"_

_I blinked, utterly stunned at the different strange compliments hurled my way. One, I had never had anyone call me beautiful except for my mother...was he mocking me? Second, why the heck would I wear so many masks at once, I only needed one...and third...What? I was going to be dancing with Malik?_

_"I'm going to be dancing with you?" I asked, rather stupidly. Malik immediately lost his smile and his cheeks flushed brightly._

_"Well, if you want to," Malik mumbled embarrassedly. "I mean...if you don't want to, you don't have to, but you're going to have to wear a costume to the ball anyway...so we may as well get you a mask too..."_

_Suddenly Malik's eyes light up. A breathless smile returned to his beautifully cute face._

_"I know!" he exclaimed. "They'll wear masks! I'll as the Pharaoh to make the costume ball into a ---a---"_

_"Masquerade?" I supplied dryly. Malik squealed._

_"Yes! A mask-raid ball!" Malik jumped up and down. "Everyone will have a beautiful, fancy mask, so you won't be the only one; no one will recognize you, they'll think of you as some handsome lord from the far out countries...I'll bring you in with me not as my servant, but as a...a..."_

_Malik blushed again and quickly looked away. "...Well...um..."_

_"A date?" I supplied again, though this time more eagerly, and slightly in disbelief. Malik flushed and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously._

_"Um...I mean, if you want to," Malik mumbled. "I just thought, if maybe...everyone's so mean to you all the time, and they don't even know how you really look...if everyone wears a mask, you'd be considered an equal, and maybe...if you dress up really nicely and come with me ...'that way'..um..maybe they'll get to know you and treat you nicer." Malik giggled nervously at me. "I mean, I got to know you, and you're not ...that bad." Malik lost his shy demeanor and poked a tongue at me. "Baku-jerk."_

_I smirked at his little nickname. He often called me "Baku-jerk" if I was being too bitter about how people treated me. It was a juxtapostion...a contradictory name since he always told me that no friend called a friend 'jerk' or 'stupidhead'._

_"Shut up, blondie," I shot right back, beginning to grin. I had never grinned without my mask before. Malik's eyes widened and twinkled and he flashed me a brilliant smile._

_"Your face looks even better when you smile," Malik said wistfully. He held out his hand to me. "Wanna come back inside? We'll start getting preparations...we'll start getting clothes for you, the finest silks...right from Asia and Greece! And we'll get them formerly ordered and personally altered...Rishid and I will get the best glassblowers to make your mask..."_

_"It'd be kinda stupid to make my mask out of glass," I said dryly. "People would see right through anyway. It wouldn't cover anything up."_

_Malik frowned and pouted. "True..."_

_"Plus," I added, "if I fell, it'd break, and you don't exactly want to mutilate my face even more, do you?"_

_Malik scrunched up his nose. "Shut up, it'd be a pity to screw up your face," he said at me. "It's fine the way it is."_

_Malik paused again, and continued his initial ramble. "And then...we'll get ..um...sculptors, I guess, to make your mask out of plaster or alabaster...and we'd let it cool in the basements or something and put balm inside it all the time so it won't rub against your skin, and we'll fit it perfectly so you won't even need a string to keep it on..."_

_I smiled and let him ramble, slowly tying up the temporary silk mask around my head. I ripped the last strands of thread that obstructed my eye-holes, and saw Malik watching me._

_"Will you do it?" Malik asked me._

_"Do what?" I asked, surprised._

_"Come to the mask-raid ball with me," Malik said. His eyes suddenly seemed to get bigger, eyelashes longer, and beautiful depths more captivating. "Will you?"_

_I sighed, but I couldn't help but be touched by his feverous attempts to make me feel more of an equal among my fellow Egyptians. Anyways, one night in glamour and beauty wouldn't be all bad...though I had doubts that people's views of me would change, I suppose one night wouldn't hurt._

_I held out my arm to him and bowed curtly. "If I may escort you," I said politely, eyes glittering mischevously. Malik's near-emotional expression suddenly lit up wtih that of pure joy, and he promptly wound an arm around mine._

_"The pleasure is mine," he said, mockingly curstying and smiling sweetly. "And you are?"_

_"You can call me, my sire," I bowed again, "Touzoku."_

_"Touzoku," Malik repeated distantly. "What a beautiful name."_

_"To match an equally beautiful face," I smirked, nearly sarcastically. Malik giggled and touched my mask._

_"Of course."_

_With our little imitation ended, Malik and I headed back to the palace. Since the silk was thin, I could feel the wind and the sun against my face regardless. However, as we made our way through the gardens and pass the rivers and ponds, our arms intertwined, my heart felt more warmth than it had ever felt before._

_Before we entered the palace, I snuck behind his ear. _

_"By the way, it's _masquerade,_" I whispered, "...blondie."_

* * *

Malik POV 

_We spent the next few weeks preparing for the mask-raid ...masquerade...ball. I has asked the Pharoah to change his plans slightly and to say the least, he was most excited. He said it was a great idea and could promote equality and freedom of speech for all. I had nodded my head impatiently and hurried off before Pharaoh Akunamonkanon could start talking about politics and governments._

_Bakura, however, was too busy with Nadir to get any of the important things done first._

_"Malik," Bakura once said to me, huffing impatiently over his score, "finding a robe for me doesn't qualify as being 'important'."_

_"It's not important!" I had huffed. "It's EXTREMELY important!"_

_Bakura had rolled his eyes at me from behind the mask and continued at the harp. We had gotten him a harp since the European instruments were too expensive. It was large, quite tall and quite big; as tall as him but much wider than him. I liked watching him as he played the harp, focusing so intently on his skillful, nimble fingers. The web that their spidery instincts created caught me in such intrigue and romance and magic that everytime he practiced, I was in awe._

_"A robe is extremely easy to find," Bakura told me. "The night before, we'll just stop by a market place and get one. That simple."_

_"It's not that simple!" I blew a bang away from my eyes in aggravation. "We have to get you cut for it! It has to look absolutely perfect!"_

_"If Nadir says it's okay, I'll steal one from the tombs," Bakura said off-handedly. "That would certainly be more than enough for perfection...it's fit for the Pharaoh himself!"_

_I stood up and glared at him. He took no notice of me and continued on playing, plucking at the strings and listening intently for any sour notes. Perfection, always perfection, and nothing less of what was expected._

_"The Pharaoh," I said, "is at least four times bigger than you, Bakura! We have to find something perfect for you to wear! Somethingthat accentuates your beauty!"_

_Bakura's face fell into a glower and he glared at me. "Malik, I'm trying to practice."_

_"Well, after you practice we'll have to get started!" I said loudly. "The ball is only a few days away! And we still haven't found your clothes!"_

_"Don't mock me," Bakura said shortly. "I'm ugly enough as it is, there's no point dressing me up."_

_"Yes there is!" I retorted. "We only have a few more days..."_

_"All the more reasons for me to finish THIS SCORE, dammit!" Bakura cursed at me. "Malik, just leave me alone,okay? I still have to finish the finishing touches for my performance!"_

_"Aren't you just going to play the harp?"I asked, somewhat bitterly._

_Bakura shook his head. "No...and as for what, you'll have to wait and see."_

_I huffed and stomped out of the room, leaving him in Nadir'squiet, teaching presence. Fine...if Bakurawouldn't cooperate, I would just have tofind a dressfor him myself._

* * *

_A couple of days passed, and I was caught in the mayhem of fitting my own clothes. Nadir came to me one day while Rishid was pinning the last scarves of my gown (I was dressed as an Grecian prince from Athens.)_

_"Oh, there you are, Master Malik," Nadir smiled faintly at me. "Sorry to disturb you. Have you found a gown for Bakura yet?"_

_I scowled, pouting when Rishid poked me accidentally with a pin. "No."_

_"Good," Nadir said, smiling. "Because I've found one for Bakura already. He's ready for the ball any time now. What about his mask?"_

_"Finished," Rishid said proudly, his voice muffled because of the pins between his teeth. "Took many glassblowers and sculptors to make it, but we got it."_

_"We have three," I said, grinning. "One for Bakura's every-day use, one for his performance, and one for his ball tomorrow."_

_"Well prepared," Nadir nodded. "Alright then. I shall leave you to the masks. Make sure that you give them to me before the ball; Bakura doesn't wish to be seen before it is necessary."_

_I scowled. "He won't even let me see?"_

_Nadir's eyes glimmered. "Oh, dear Master Malik," Nadir shook his head. "Bakura won't let anyone see."_

* * *

_The day of the mask-raid...masquerade!...ball arrived. I was dressed in fine, pale, beige silk, sleeveless and long. A cloth belt was once again, wound around my waiste, a beautiful lavender colour to match my eyes. A royal, rich lavender cloak was draped over my shoulders, and red ribbons adorned my wrists and forearms. My sandals were tied around my ankles and strewn up my calves. My hair had been swept up in a half and pinned with a jeweled scarab bettle, its wings spanning over the intricate design of my hairstyle. _

_I was pleased with my mask. It was a deep purple, dotted with silver and diamond droplets about the edges. Pure white feathers adorned its edge, and from the tips of the feathers were strung thin strands of beads that were linked back to my beetle. The mask only covered half my face, just from my forehead to the bridge of my nose. The silver and the diamonds were accentuated wtih the gold in my gown. _

_As planned, I was waiting at the edge of the entrace leading to the grande hallway. Atemu came up to me, dressed as an Arabian prince, compliments to Nadir for his turban._

_"I'm surprised you fit all your hair in that thing," I joked, as Atemu hopped towards me._

_"It took a while," the prince admitted, pushing the side of the turban upright. "Like my pants?"_

_I looked down. "Very baggy."_

_Atemu smiled. "I thought so too." He glanced at me. "Hey, when is your servant coming?"_

_"Rishid?" I asked. Atemu shook his head._

_"No...the other one."_

_"Bakura?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"I don't know. I'm waiting for him."_

_"Oh." Atemu thought deeply. "I don't think he likes me."_

_"I don't think he likes anyone," I admitted, sighing. Atemu smiled again._

_"Well, he seems okay," Atemu said. "Maybe we all hang together later, after the ball."_

_I nodded, pleased with the idea. "Sure!"_

_Atemu grinned and hopped away into the hallway. "See you Malik!"_

_I waved. "See you."_

_"My my," a voice purred behind me. "If you had other accquaintances for tonight, you could've sent note to me..."_

_I gasped and turned around. Standing behind me and had been previously hovering over my ear, was Bakura. My eyes widened at his attire as I began to rake them over his entire being. He stood so tall, so grande before me, that for a moment, I faltered. I just had to appreciate the moment of his most handsome glory._

_"You look wonderful," I breathed. _

_And indeed he did. If it was possible, he looked even better than the time I had seen him in the gardens. In fact, he looked absolutely unrecognizable! He was dressed as an exotic Arabian performer, (compliments, once more, I supposed, to Nadir), wearing the most beautifully intricate robe I had ever seen. It was a beautiful, fiery, ruby red in color, matching his eyes and complimenting his lightly tanned skin. Beneath the floor-sweeping robe, he wore another one, this one paler, light, a pale beige, closed and tied about his waist with a golden-white sash. The sash trailed down with the rest of the open robe, complimenting the golden, twinkling jewlery he had adorned himself in. _

_His white hair had been cut (it was getting very long) and now it was at his shoulders. A hood was drawn over his hair to conceal it, and crowned on his head were strands of fantastic beads of jewelry. He was wearing his full mask, simply because he was to perform first. It was black, a pure contrast to the brightness of his robes. Glass and diamonds dotted around the edges of his eyelids, and fanning from the sides were red and yellow feathers. I found myself blushing and gaping in awe. His mask looked as though it had been created with pheonix feathers itself!_

_"My dear Grecian prince," Bakura said, his voice sounding lightly exasperated, "will you stare at my face all night?"_

_I found myself blushing very hard, and quickly averted my gaze. I coughed self-consciously._

_"You...you..." I coughed and cleared my throat again. "You're late."_

_He laughed a bit, very softly. I sneaked a peak at him from the corner of my eye. Although, being at a teenage year, he was still tall and gangly, I could see his strengthening, wider shoulders, and his slowly stronger muscles. His legs were no longer skeletal and nimble, but they were growing harder and more muscled in the Egyptian sun. If he wasn't built, he was at least finely toned._

_"I'm fashionably late, my dear Prince," he corrected. He straightened, like a fine gentleman, and held out his arm to me. "Shall we proceed?"_

_A smile slowly lit up my face, and nodding, I wound my arm around his. Although I couldn't see, I knew he was smiling at me, since his eyes were twinkling in that soft, beautiful way that showed his inner happiness. My smile strengthened and we entered the double doors flew open wide. We entered the banquet hall._

_I had been right. With Bakura in a full mask and everyone else in full masks too, no one could recognize him. Rishid and the other servants were not to attend in the direct mist of the ball; they had been shifted to another room where they could enjoy themselves among each other. The Priests were all lined up and were dressed in awfully funny matching gowns. A few servants here and there served food and entertainment (the servants still had to have shifts in terms of servicing the ball), and a couple were trailing protectively as guards after their masters or mistresses. _

_Many people flocked to see us. As a tomb-keeper and a close friend of the Prince, I had been allowed to attend. They all came to me, complimenting on my dress and my eyes, "Oh, young lord Malik, how much you've grown!" "Oh, little Malik, your eyes, they're just like your mothers!" but mostly, all of them asked:_

_"Malik, who is this special man?"_

_I could see that Bakura was surprised that no one could recognize him. The silver of his hair was hidden, and when it was seen, people just said, "Sire, what a wonderful wig!" All the women complimented on Bakura's handsome stature and stance, and his beautifully estrange red eyes. _

_"Malik, who is he?"_

_I smiled and wound my arm tighter around his, and patted him fondly on the shoulder. "This, everyone, is Touzoku," I said. "He comes from a far off country, so far away that we don't even know how to pronounce its name."_

_Everyone awwed and nodded. "He's a Lord there."_

_"A lord?" They all exclaimed. "Ra, have mercy!"_

_They were eager to know more about him, compliment more on his beautiful form, when he suddenly stepped away._

_"If you will excuse me," he said shortly, "I must perform."_

_And he quickly left. I smiled after him, knownig that such close contact was a new thing for him to get used to. I told everyone that he was to perform, and since he was a secluded magician and musician, he liked his privacy and didn't like people. My mysterious backround of him simply made everyone more intrigued, and when we sat down to watch Bakura at his harp, I saw all of the women crowd in the front to see._

_That was probably the first timeI had felt a twinge of jealousy._

* * *

Bakura POV 

_I was certainy not used to any of the compliments they had showered me with. A part of me wished quickly to get away, and when I could stand the stifling, incessantly stupid heat of fat men and their even fatter wives and their unneccessary talk, I left. _

_Everyone gathered close to watch me at the harp. I played it carefully, making sure that I made no mistakes. It was an Italian song of great romance...as I allowed my fingers to comb through the strings, I noticed how everyone began to slowly swoon into my great tapestry of music. My power and my beauty...I allowed my voice to carry so tremendously throughout the banquet that it felt that Ra himself was still._

_When I paused in my music, the rest of my surprise kicked in. A magnificent display of lights showered itself from the ceiling, and the hall grew dark. Dancing girls, with my teaching, unfurled themselves from the shadows and began to dance to my music, which had grown more lively. In the darkness, they looked enchanting, mystical. From a simple song, my music slowly grew into an opera...a great opera of Ra and his son, and Isis, his queen, and the intricate love story that they wove. The floor beneath me glowed with my magician magic, and soon, the whole room was entirely captivated._

_And I..._

_I was truly happy._

* * *

Malik POV 

_I was truly mystified by Bakura's talent. He had directed this all himself? The lighting, the music, the dancing girls and the boys and the magic? This was all his?_

_After the performance, Bakura quickly left the stage and returned to me in his half-mask. I froze in my track while everyone else flocked to his side and asked him, complimented him of his arts and how he had done it. But I, I remained where I was, even more captivated by something far more beautiful than his music._

_His face._

_He still had his hood on, so no one really recognized him. Everyone exclaimed about his beauty, and truly, he was beautiful. His lightly tanned skin was smooth and unblemished, and his ruby eyes were lashed in long, angular lashes that required no kohl. His lips were firm and chiseled, and when he smiled, they curled in such a way that it was the most gentlemanly thing I saw...but when he grinned, I could see the child in him, the child that played and laughed with me, that understood me._

_It was then I realize that I had fallen in love with him._

_Years of spending time with him had gotten us closer...finally gaining his trust and seeing his face had bridged the last gap. I had fallen in love, and there was no way I could ever get back up._

_He turned his face to me, and I gaped in awe at his sculpted jaw, his beautifully shaped face. I suddenly felt light headed, so when he swooped towards me and caught me, I was thankful._

_"Must you stare at my face all night?" he joked at me. I smiled fondly and gently caressed his mask with my fingers._

_"Show them," I whispered. "Show them."_

_Without even a hurt, hesitant glance, Bakura nodded, and after putting me right way up, he tore off his hood and revealed his silver hair._

_I didn't even need to describe their expressions when they saw who he really was. I was too proud for words._

* * *

Okay, whew. Eighteen chapters and I was still debating to add a lemon. If I did, that meant I would've had to write a whole romantic bit leadnig up the lemon, which I am NOT up for.

These flashbacks wll last hopefully one more chapter. If not, then two more, at the very most. They'er all under the category of "Intermission."

I called this chapter "By Susan Kay" for all of those who had read "Phantom" and could recognize some of Bakura's quotes as Erik's. I was tempted to also call this chapter, "The Edge" in regards to Erik and Bakura's "Why must I stay away from the edge?" Anyways, I'm not trying to plagerize, but since this is a PotR crossover, I wanted to drive home why Bakura and Erik are similar, so I used the same quotes they used when they were younger. "Why must I stay away from the edge?" "Why must you stare at my face all night?" And for the next chatper, "Are you quite sure a SMALL jar would contain me, Madame?" XDXD

Anyways, enjoy the chapter. Hopefully we can finish the Egyptian flashbacks in one to two moer chapters. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!


	14. Intoxication

Chapter Fourteen: Intoxication

Malik POV

_The night was long, and young. I was on the balcony, where most of the servants usually stayed, to help shade the large windows. No one was here now. The banquet hall was below me, and faintly, I could hear the orchestra perform every song that Bakura had composed. _

Masquerade…paper faces on parade…

Masquerade…Hide your face so the world will never…find you.

_Someone came up from behind me. I could feel their breath on my neck, but before I could turn around, Bakura had gently laid a hand on my shoulder. I paused._

_"And what, may I ask," asked Bakura softly, "are you doing here all alone, prince?"_

_I paused, and slowly turned around, raising my face to meet his. Soft, concerned red eyes glowed at me from behind the black half-mask._

Masquerade! Every face a different shade!

Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!

_I smiled softly, and returned to gazing up at the stars. Bakura slowly sat down beside me, and watched me inquiringly as I took my time. He could be such a gentleman, at times._

_"Just…star-gazing," I said, quietly. Bakura nodded softly, and sat closer to me._

_"Why aren't you downstairs…dancing?" he asked. I smiled and lowered my gaze down to my lap, fiddling with my clothes._

Flash of mauve, splash of puce

Fool and king, ghoul and goose

Green and black, queen and priest

Face a rogue, face a beast.

_I watched the people below me dancing, their skirts swirling, their costumes flashing. The entire ballroom was a sight to behold, with exactly what Bakura had written in his lyrics… fool and king, queen and priest…_

_I looked up again, and saw that Bakura was very close to me. His eyes held a certain quiet voice about them, as though in this one moment in time, he was at his most peaceful, serene self. I wondered if it was his most vulnerable one too, as normally, he was loud and brash and cold and sarcastic to defend himself._

_I subconsciously scooted closer to him. No, I was wrong. Maybe he was this way because he finally discovered that he didn't have to defend himself anymore._

Faces!

Take a turn, take a ride!

On a merry-go-round

In an inhuman race!

_I was still quiet, but he was being polite enough to not question me. Strangely, I felt mostly at peace…my heart was at rest, my soul in tranquility. And by his side, I felt nothing else but serenity._

_Hesitantly, as though even slightly unsure, Bakura's hand slowly eased over mine, and gripped it lightly. I knew he had expected me to recoil, but just as how I gained his trust in letting me see his face, I ensured that trust by tightening my hand in his._

_I looked up and gave him a tender smile. His eyes were flashing bewilderedly, like all the times they did when he was confused or unsure of his own doing. However, his smile showed all of the joy and confidence he needed, and I was happy._

Eye of gold, true is false

Who is who?

Curl of lip, swirl of gown,

Ace of hearts, face a clown.

_"You seemed busy," I said, very softly. I felt my eyes fall, half-lidded as I gazed at him fondly. My heart began to beat in loud but peaceful rhythms. Bakura gave me a curious look through his half-mask._

_"So?" he asked, but his voice was void of bitter sarcasm. He gripped my hand firmly. "What does that have to do with anything?"_

_My smile broadened into a wide grin, and scooting closer, I cuddled close to him. Many a nights had I done this; held him close to me, nourished his broken heart and his shattered dreams. Bakura acknowledged me and cuddled closer too…so close that our bangs swept and intermingled with each other's and his nose just barely skimmed my cheek._

_And his lips just an inch above mine…_

_I raised my hand and gently caressed his masked cheek. "Well…I just wanted to dance with you."_

_"Just with me?" Bakura repeated, so softly, so surprised. "Really?"_

_I nodded. "Really."_

_Bakura lowered his head, and our lips just grew half an inch closer. He closed his eyes._

_"You could've asked," Bakrua whispered. "I was worried when I didn't see you in the crowds."_

_I giggled lightly, and nuzzled him softly. "You were worried about me?"_

_He chuckled and held me close. "But of course…"_

_I smiled and closed my eyes too. _

_I was…truly glad for the light that I had introduced him with. No longer was he cold, hard or cruel. I had seen past his true mask; the one he wore in fear, in defense. The bitter, cold mask that he wore of stone…the one that everyone was afraid to touch, afraid to look past._

_I had looked past. And what had I found? A boy… a beautiful boy who was truly talented. A happy boy, a young boy, an energetic boy, who played with me, talked with me, laughed with me._

_A boy I loved._

_"Malik?"_

_I looked up, and saw Bakura gazing me in a way that for a moment, I thought I was looking in a mirror. That same, loving gaze…I smiled._

_"Yes, Bakura?"_

_Bakura began to look uncertain, but I knew what he wanted. After so long, I finally learned._

_I had looked past his mask, and I liked what I found._

_When our lips embraced, Bakura made no move to tear away from me. His lips were so soft, so supple against mine, and for that beautiful moment, I was certain that there was no magic greater than our love that night._

Faces!

Drink it in, drink it up

Till you've drowned in the light,

In the sound

But who can name the face?

_We spent some of the night dancing together, drinking in each other's presence and gazes in the most romantic setting ever. I was dancing with such a beautifully handsome, splendid lord. He was dancing with me, a young tomb-keeper who had nothing to offer except myself._

_But I guess my presence was all he needed._

Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!

Masquerade! Take your fill of the spectacle around you!

Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!

Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!

_We danced, people stared, but no one hissed at Bakura in contempt any longer. As I gazed deeply in his eyes as he swept me about, I came to realize that he didn't care about them anymore either._

_I raised my hand to his bare cheek, and gave it a soft kiss. He was quiet, so touched, touched beyond words, I knew. I felt his lips tremble in an attempt to control his tears, and to help him, I gave them a kiss too._

Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies!

Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!

Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes!

Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you!

_Knowing that he loved me too made my heart swell. In content, I rested my head on his chest, as we listened to everyone else singing and dancing._

"_What a night!"_

"_What a crowd!"_

"_Makes you glad!"_

"_Makes you proud!"_

"_All the crème de la crème…"_

"_Watching us and watching them…"_

_I raised my head, and reading his eyes, I nodded. Bakura and I smiled at each_

_fondly, and hand in hand, we left the ballroom, and began to run down the privacy of the hallways._

All our fears are in the past

Three years of relief

Of delight!

_We ran down the empty hallways, laughing and giggling so happily, with the ballroom music in the backround. We danced drunkenly and swirled randomly, too happy in each other's presence to give a damn about anything else._

Of Elysian peace!

And we can breathe at last!

No more notes, no more ghost

Here's a health, here's a toast

To a prosperous, to our friends, who are here….

_Bakura, grinning so happily, grabbed me around the waist and hurled me up in the air. I gave a squeal, loving this game ever since I was a child. I looked down on him lovingly as he twirled me about. I bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead._

And may the splendor never fade!

What a blessed release!

And what a masquerade!

_He put me down, and I quickly grabbed his hand in mine excitedly. In the secrecy of the hallways, he had given me a diamond ring he had made himself. I was touched beyond words._

_"Think of it," I sang, "a secret engagement! Look, your future bride. Just think of it!"_

_He said nothing, and I pushed him lightly. "But, why is it a secret? What have we to hide? You promised me."_

_Bakura looked at me, a slightly regretful look in his eyes. I knew, of course. Regardless of engagement or not, Bakura was still afraid that someone would hurt him…hurt me… hurt us._

_"Please Malik...Just pretend..."_

_"Bakura, you're free..."_

_"Malik..."_

_"It's engagement! Not a crime...Bakura,what are you...afraid of?"_

_"Malik, let's not argue…" he sang to me._

_"Let's not argue," I agreed. "Please pretend…"_

_"I can only hope…"_

_"You will understand in time," we both sang at the same time. He smiled at me, and I smiled back at me. Rather than thinking about the engagement, both of us hurried quickly to the basements._

_Our love conquered the rest of our senses and our logic. As the music continued above us, Bakura and I found ourselves in one of the servant's rooms, and without even much ado, I was crushed up the wall, and Bakura was against me. His hands roamed, so skillfully, so wonderfully against my skin. Our lips were locked, our hands exploring each other's body in tune to the music upstairs._

_"Bakura," I once breathed, raggedly, amongst all of the music and lust. "If you keep this up…we'll…have…to…make you…a eunuch….AH!"_

_"For being so naughty?" Bakura panted back, groaning in pleasure. _

_"Y-Yes…" I panted too. "A small jar …."_

_"Are you sure a _small_ jar would contain me, Malik?" Bakura grinned. I grinned back and slapped him playfully in the head._

_"Obviously not," I gasped. "Bakura…I love you…"_

_"I…love you too….Malik…"_

_We swayed in tune with the music, danced the dance of lust, of love. Our hips bucked and retreated and rocked with the music, our hands found each other's, our lips never left and when they did, they found other places to kiss._

_Our costumes laid forgotten on the floor, ripped and tattered, and Bakura and I found comfort in each other's warmth on the bed. The sheets slowly began to entangle between us. In one supreme act of love, I ripped of his mask, and continued making love to him, with his entire, purely naked body. No more lies, no more hiding. _

_I kissed and caressed his mutilated cheek, and I felt tears wetting my fingers. I broke away and licked them away as he gripped me tightly._

_"No more hiding," I whispered. "I love you, Bakura."_

_Bakura grunted and kissed me back, straddling my hips. "I…I love you too, Malik," he whispered, his breathing ragged. "Thank you…"_

Masquerade!

Paper faces on parade!

Masquerade!

Hide your face so the world will never find you!

_We made our love to each other that night. In a way, it was our way of devoting ourselves to each other…we had finally realized how much we cared for one another. We had fallen in love, and there was no way we were getting back up._

_But that was alright. Lying in love next to Bakura was fine too._

Masquerade! Every face a different shade!

Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!

Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!

Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!

_As long as I loved him, nothing else mattered._

Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!

Masquerade!

Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!

* * *

_A few years passed. I was about…sixteen or seventeen when I was first taken by Bakura. After that first time, Bakura and I often found each other again and again, displaying our love in a passionate torrent of physical contact. And I loved it._

_I loved him._

_For the next few years, Bakura and I became unbearably close. Wherever I was, he was there. Wherever he was, I was there. I was no longer impatient with his compositions and his practice…now, I even sang along with him. My voice wasn't the greatest…it was a low alto, near tenor, but not as nice as his. Often, I wondered if Bakura ever secretly scorned me for not knowing how to sing, but if he was, he never showed it. He patiently taught me and appreciated it every time I gave it my best shot._

_Masquerade became my favourite song. Bakura and I spent so much time dancing to it. It was our 'song'. _

_Our love grew for the next few years. We told no one of our engagement except for Rishid. It was possible that I could marry him, since I was a servant too, but Bakura knew it would be dangerous if anyone found out we were together._

_We never thought that one day, our love would shatter. When I turned nineteen and he turned twenty two, our world was destroyed._

_My father recently passed away before I turned nineteen. It was a sad procession for us all. Although my father had been a strict man, he was still a good father, even if he wasn't a very affectionate one. He was very down-to-earth and very serious, and often a times I had been beaten by his hand for being too carefree. Nevertheless, I had admired my father, and it was sad to let him go._

_I was too sad about father's death to realize that I was to be the next tomb keeper. My initiation was to be in the next few days, on my birthday. When I remembered, I was terrified, and burst into tears, wailing for Bakura._

_Bakura had listened to my anguish, his eyes sharpening and his face set in silence. Although he said nothing and comforted me with his hands, I knew he was boiling inside. He had always thought that the initiation was absolutely barbaric…just as keeping slaves and having harems was equally barbaric._

_"Oh, legalized rape is the done thing here, is it?" he once said bitterly to Nadir. "A man can take an innocent woman to bed and call it custom? What a country!"_

_As he held me, I felt his hands begin to shake. As he grew, his temper with other people seemed to darken. I wasn't sure what had changed; he was very kind to me, but strangely enough, he hated the priests, especially the one named Akunadin._

_"Please don't do anything to them," I pleaded to him. Throughout the years, his body had grown from skeletal to handsomely built. He was now very tall, and very big too. His shoulders were broad and strong, his calves were rapid quick and strengthened from jumping from tall places all the time. He was even more toned than me._

_When I had turned nineteen, everyone realized that Bakura and I, although we were adults when we met, were no longer little children. Bakura was now a man, a very piercingly handsome man, and very strong. _

_"What makes you think I'll do anything?" he asked, though his voice was hard and rough with hatred. _

_"Bakura, please," I pleaded through my tears. "I know about the dancing boy…"_

_"It was an accident," Bakura said shortly. He raised my face to him. "You had given me life. I can't stand here knowing that you are going to be hurt and I can do nothing about it. I must protect you."_

_I shook my head tearfully. "There's nothing you can do, Bakura," I whispered, fingering the ring that hung from my neck. I lowered my head. "They don't know that we love each other. If…If I become tomb-keeper, I'll have to marry a woman…a woman I don't love!"_

_Bakura's arms tightened around me at that. He quickly grasped my tear-streaked face and forced me to look at him._

_"No," he said firmly. "I won't let that happen. We'll run away together. We'll run far away. We'll elope!"_

_"But Bakura," I sobbed, "they'll find us. And if they find us, they'll kill us! They'll kill you…"_

_"No one can catch me," Bakura assured. "I am a magician, I am a thief. I'm the King of Thieves, Malik, and I promise they won't catch us." He gave me a kiss on the lips. "I love you."_

_He had grown to say those three words easily from his lips. Easily and sincerely. I choked back on my tears and kissed him back._

_"I love you too."_

* * *

Bakura POV

_For the next few months, I prepared for our miraculous escape. Rishid, who had always wished to be a tomb keeper, offered to take Malik's place. We decided that Rishid was to dress as Malik and lead the procession to the initiation, while I went to get Malik and we were to run away. I had set up a boat as an escape route distraction for the guards, for surely they'd think we went the easiest route, which was to go down the Nile. _

_Instead, Malik and I were to take an Arabian caravan up to Morocco, and leave boat there. We were going to sail to Greece and hide in Rome, and soon, thereafter, we were going to go to Persia._

_Nadir offered his hand in help. He gave us his key and possessions to his house in Persia, as well as his private boat. I was thankful for his friendship and when he told me, I had given him a great hug._

_Nadir paused, and slowly wrapped his arms around me. "Take care, little Baku."_

_I was a man by then, but I knew in Nadir's eyes, I would always be a small child with hunks of bread and bulging cheeks to him. "I will Nadir," I promised. "Thank you."_

_With Malik's initiation slowly approaching, I had to ready myself. Anything for the boy I loved._

_Months passed. Each day we feverously ended up making love, trying to ready ourselves for the long, arduous journey ahead. On the eve of Malik's birthday, Rishid and Malik dressed up as one another, and prepared themselves for the switch._

_I had been outside preparing the boats and illusions when the time struck. I quickly left my bearings and returned to the palace, intent on making my ultimate theft. I quickly ran to the underground room where we always made love, and found a cloaked shadow sitting on the bed._

_When I grabbed the person's wrist and took off their hood, it wasn't Malik._

_…it was Rishid._

* * *

Bakura POV, present

And oh, imagine my terrible devastation when I had realized Malik had betrayed me. After interrogating Rishid, he ended up telling me that Malik had long ago left, and was undergoing his initiation in a secret, underground home made especially for him and his keepers. At first, I didn't believe Malik would betray me, but when Rishid stood and soldiers marched and surrounded us, I knew I had been had.

My heart filled with utmost rage at the idea that I had been betrayed. The soldiers kept me alive in the dungeons for a couple of years, before I was sentenced to death. They had beaten me, taunted me, ripped my mask into shreds and forced me to cut open my scar. Never once, even though I hoped, never once did Malik ever try to find me, ever said goodbye.

He had left me. For good.

Years of torture and hatred built up in my shredded heart. Once more I was confided in a cage, a wretched cage, just as I was when I first came to Egypt. Before I was to be executed, a note was sent to me. It was 'from Malik', and at first, I didn't believe it. He had remembered me? Perhaps this was a letter of apology, of love. Perhaps he still did love me…and there was some mistake.

No. When I opened the letter, a familiar score fell from its contents. _Masquerade _looked back up at me, ripped and shredded to pieces.

My work. My art.

_Our song…_

When I was brought out to be executed, I fled. I broke free and I fled. My heart was filled with anguish….great anguish!..that I immediately vowed vengeance against Malik and all he stood for. The Pharaoh was already the object of my hatred; after Malik and I fell in love, I had overheard the priest Mahaado telling the dying pharaoh what had truly happened in my village.

Slaughter. Pure, sick, manslaughter.

Taking Malik away from me; his betrayal, his love, his illusion…I channeled all my rage and hurt and bitter resentment to that. Never again did I love once more; there was no such thing as love, as I realized. No women would ever have wanted to bed me, or to love me. Neither did Malik, the wicked, sly-headed snake! To lure me into a sense of security and shatter it so!

I had given him my love! Showed him my face!

My face…

I realized then it was because of my face he left me. My face was my curse. It would never bring anyone close to me.

I fought the Pharaoh, and we battled to the bitter end. Atemu and I had never been very close, and after his father's death and Malik's disappearance, he grew to hate me as much as I hated him. In his eyes, I had taken away his only friend, and in my eyes, he had taken away my life.

But he was going down for it, yes he was.

I had died, but I wasn't defeated, no I wasn't. I remained, trapped in the Millennium Ring. Although at first to me, it was another cage, another wicked, blasted cage, I grew to fond the Shadows that remained there. They were my companions, they were my friends. They listened to me, calmed my heart, made me realize that there was no such thing as love in the world.

I grew to hate Malik even more, and ever fiber of my ancient Egypt self slowly disappeared. No longer did I wish to be something that Malik once desired…it was a wicked mirror to me. I changed; no longer was I loud, abrasive, and bold. I abandoned my habit for stealing and wishing for sunlight, and instead, found an organ and began to force myself once more into music.

My Thief King self slowly slipped away into nothingness. The young little boy with the wicked scar but bright smile was no more. No longer did his quick feet pattered the stone floors; nor his laugh echoing in the recess of my mind. I grew out my 'short' cropped hair, and with time, it grew to my waist and became soft and silky to the touch. My body was no longer wide and built and strong, made to protect boys like Malik and to guard my heart. No…I became pale once more, slender now, and my fingers more skilled than ever at composing, at tarot, at anything I had ever set my eyes to.

I abandoned my brash, rude attitude and adopted something much more wicked. I force my voice to be soft, manipulative, like a serpent's tongue licking on a delicious, forbidden apple. I held myself with a strange sense of elegance, with calm disposition, with cold, uncaring shrugs and casual smirks that showed that I no longer cared what other thought of me.

Rather than standing tall and beating the topic to the death, as I would've done with Malik before, I was now able to simply slip away into the darkness, letting the other to his or her own devices. I was my own man, my own spirit. I didn't need any more protecting.

My heart was no longer warm. It didn't need defense. Stone could stand well on its own.

* * *

Three thousand years later, I was sleeping. My composition of 'Don Juan Triumphant' had still not been completed. It was my opera, my own opera, based on my life and my world and my opium-like Shadow world. I covered my right side of my face with a white mask, knowing now why it was there. It was no monstrosity. It was fate. For when I dueled with the Pharaoh, my face had been bare.

My mother had been right. It was my scar that would begin the Shadow games, and my scar that would end it.

But neither one of us lost nor won. I still had the scar, and therefore, I still had to begin the Shadow games once more, when the time was right. Now that I was alive once more, I was determined to do that: to kill the Pharaoh and to kill Marik. I didn't need to know that Marik was Malik's reincarnation. I could already see in those amethyst eyes that once looked at me with love. But this was Malik's true self, was it not? Marik…Marik Ishtal…

I was happy living in my cold, recess of a world. It was dark, it was comforting. No longer was my face despised upon in the light. There was no light in this world. Only Darkness.

But then…

Then came Ryou.

Ryou, my precious, soft little angel. Looking in his eyes seemed to be like looking in a mirror. His identical, white ivory hair, his big brown eyes. When I had first seen him, my heart had stopped. This boy…this was the boy who had to contend with the legend of the Thief King? The Thief King who turned into what he was now…the Darkness?

I wasn't sure what drew me to him, other than how similar we resembled on another. I was curious, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly that I hadn't realized that I had neglected that feeling in my heart for 3,000 years.

So…I became his Dark Angel. I became someone that I never thought I could be, changed myself entirely from the name of the Thief King, hoping that this time, things would turn out right. That maybe he wouldn't betray me, and then, I could be satisfied.

But when I saw him with Marik, my heart refilled itself with the strange sense of coldness, of hatred.

I realized then….caressing my mask…that nothing ever turned my way. No amount of praying or worshipping could ever change my fate.

The fate of my mask, my monstrosity, my soul.

Love is like the first intoxication of morphine...

…it doesn't last very long.

_Why? Why must I keep away from the edge?_

…

But I wasn't going down…no, not going down…

I wasn't going to lose, not again…

…without a fight!

* * *

I certainly hope I didn't end it on a too-rushed note. I wanted to get this chapter done as soon as possible. A lot of you liked the last chapter...Yay, citronshipping! Go Thief King Bakura x Malik!

I did make it clear, right? Malik is the young, cute, big-eyed, GOOD Malik. The 'Malik' that likes Ryou is the EVIL 'Marik'. They have a story too, and I'll get to that next chapter. That one half of the story of 'Malik's betrayal' has to do with Marik, but Thief Bakura and Yami Bakrua didn't know that, which is they he was pissed.

I hope I was able to write Bakura's emotions good. He was raelly upset when he found rishid instead of Malik..could you guys tell?

READ AND REVIEW! And please, I beg of you, give me longer reviews than just "plz update!" I want to know how this story is going well for you guys...anything you like, disliek, approve of, not approve of, etc. I want to know how this story is going for you all!

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHATPER!


	15. Masquerade

LET'S SING IT AGAIN! That's right, people! It's Masquerade, all over again!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Masquerade

Ryou POV

A month or so passed. .Il Muto had played sometime in November. For a whole month, as Christmas approached, I no longer had heard from my Angel.

Although there was still that lingering link of his breath in my head, I could no longer hear him, no longer feel him. This, at times, made me absolutely miserable, absolutely lonely. Though, yet, the strange feeling of fear I had towards him…that strange feeling of fear and worry and uncertainty that I had for him…(could I trust him? He who murdered someone so mercilessly? My Angel?)…that empty, lonely part of my head was always quickly corrected. It was filled by Marik.

Every night, though, I remained praying, I remained…partially faithful. At times, without Marik, I was utterly torn between the two. Though my Angel killed, surely it was for divine reasons, wasn't it? Surely angels didn't kill without reason…without reasons and in cold blood? Surely there must've been a purpose to the boy's death…not just a heartless murder…angels wouldn't do that…

But then, my heart would sink, when I would realize that…my Angel…was no angel. He was the Phantom of my Sennen Ring, the evil King of Thieves…the poor, mistakened boy who lost his family at an early age, who was misunderstood when he was young…who fell in love and had his heart broken…

He was no Angel, that I knew. He was merely a boy…a real boy, a human boy who now was a hauntingly beautiful man. Regardless, in my heart he would always be an Angel to me…the angel that protected me, taught me, and nurtured me in my loneliness.

Bakura…what a lovely name it was…how it rolled off my tongue and sounded so crystal clear…like an iced gem. _Bakura._

As a man, however, my Angel was a murderer. I could help not but acknowledge that. I had to. It would not be healthy to always ignore the truth of who he really was…

Every night, I would pray though…pray like he was a real human boy turned Angel. Somehow, he seemed more real that way, and in a positive light, it made me absolutely euphoric that he was real. In a negative light…it meant that I was in grave danger…even if I loved him.

I would never admit it to Marik, but my Angel held a very special place in my heart. In the long run, I knew I could never hate him for being murderous. All I was afraid of was his temper…his scarily dark temper that might blow every little minute. I was afraid that he would hurt me one day, drive himself insane…but no, I could never hate him.

I loved him.

If only I could just…talk with him…without fearing the wrath of God and his guardians…

During the time I was no longer possessed by my Angel, however, Marik and I became so much closer. People were really beginning to think of us like a couple. Ryou and Marik, Marik and Ryou…I would always blush with my name following his or leading his, like a prefix or a suffix…

Or a surname, as Marik once suggested. I had flushed embarrassedly but was touched by his suggestion.

Of course, that night when I went to bed, I realized my surname was already attached to something.

_Ryou Bakura._

_Bakura Ryou…_

At any rate, Marik and I became extremely close. There was nothing I couldn't get him to do and nothing he couldn't get me to do. When there were things we didn't appreciate, we'd talk them out. We weren't afraid of expressing our emotions: me, because I couldn't hide them otherwise, no matter how polite I was, and Marik, because he was naturally blunt and didn't like fancying things up. Our relationship was quite healthy this way. We were not afraid of each other, and we had no secrets.

At least…I think we didn't…

Anyways, one time, Marik and I were sitting with Ayato at the school cafeteria for lunch. It was a quiet little corner, only for special students or special guests (Marik and I were both of the two), and a friend (Ayato, but of course.).It was decorated to look like an old-fashioned French parlor, complete with luxurious velvet armchairs and furnished with elegant, dark-wood coffee tables. The windows in this corner were absolutely exquisite…elegant and delicately framed, their curtains framing the sides with their smooth, satin texture, hugged by the golden cord…

I felt so excited when Marik had invited me to this corner. It was even a private corner, with French doors leading back to the cafeteria and to the outside garden. The cafeteria had four of these special corners. One had to get the teacher's approval before attending.

I was sitting in a plush armchair next to Marik, looking out the window, admiring the snow and the little flakes twinkling like diamonds as they floated to the ground. The hot chocolate was warm and sweet against my lips, filling me with a content, warm, and snuggly feeling inside. My mug was held by my left hand, fingers delicately posed, and my right held the saucer. Marik's cup of mocha's coffee was sitting on the table, in its round mug, on the saucer, half-finished.

Ayato was sitting across from us, downing his iced cappuccino like a thirsty boy on a hot summer's day. I had wanted Marik to meet Ayato, a great but distant friend of mine, as he did not hang out with our 'clique' of strangeness. I giggled at the thought of it. Honda, Jonouchi and Ayato would not make a great trio…well, not great for me and Yugi and Anzu, who had enough difficulty as it is subduing them from havoc…

A plate of sweets and custard sat on the coffee between us. I loved the chocolates here. Knowing this, Marik secretively winked at me, and picked on up, brushing it lightly against my lips. I giggled and licked at it, enjoying the delicious, rich taste.

Marik chuckled and slid the thing in my mouth, before giving me a light kiss on the lips, licking my own. I flushed, not used to his expression of love so publicly. Ayato smirked and pretended to blush.

"Oh Ryou!" he said, girlishly putting his hands on his cheeks to hide his 'blush'. "What a little romantic you are!"

I nearly choked on my chocolate when I realized Ayato was watching. Marik pulled back and laughed as Ayato cooed girlishly at me, waving his hands at the wrists and flicking his hair back. "Oh, Ryou, if you love the man that much you should go arrange a room…"

"That's not it," I hacked weakly. "Ayato, please!"

Ayato laughed and stopped teasing, and promptly crammed some food into his mouth. Marik chuckled and apologetically squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, indicating that I was alright and that he was forgiven.

"So, there's going to be a party," Ayato said, though his mouthful of food. "I hear it's a costume party."

"A costume party?" I repeated, looking away from Marik. "Why on earth a costume party? The school has never sponsored such a thing before."

"To make up for apparently, Il Muto's bad performance," Ayato explained, mumbling though another mouthful of food, "Kaiba-kun's set on making this year the 'Arts' year. Instead of doing a Christmas pageant, he's hosting a Masqu…Masku…mask-raid…"

"A Masquerade party?" I exclaimed. Ayato swallowed his mouthful and grinned at me.

"Yeah, that's the word! I keep on pronouncing it mask-and-raid…"

"You're a bit of a kleptomaniac, aren't you?" Marik smirked, his arms snaking around my waist. I giggled shyly and looked over my shoulder at Marik. His little smirk turned grin as we gave me a discrete wink.

Ayato's grin, if possible, grew wider. "I wish," he laughed. "Although that would be fun, coming in as a robber…no, I've got plans this year. And the best part is…" Without any warning whatsoever, Ayato sprung from his chair and grabbed my hand. With a flourish, he raised it into the air triumphantly along with his. "…RYOU-KUN WILL BE JOINING ME!"

"I will!" I stuttered, alarmed. "Joining you with what?"

Ayato flashed me is 100-watt 100 up-to-no-good-smile. "In my little fashion party of

course! You shall come dressed with me!"

"And exactly what will you be dressing up as?" Marik asked, calmly prying my hand away from Ayato's and laying it back on my lap. Ayato puffed up his chest in a very manly and proud manner.

"…I'M GOING TO BE A BRIDE!"

If Marik had not already taken my hand in his, my hand would've dropped like a rock onto the desk along with my jaw. Ayato flicked his red hair back, puffing out his chest with an even more manly air than before. I shook my head and stuttered,

"….a WHAT?"

"A BRIDE!" Ayato announced. "Well, maybe not a BRIDE bride, but a GIRL BRIDE!"

Marik and I blinked dumbly in unison.

"…I hate to break it to you, " Marik said slowly, eyeing Ayato's puffed-out chest, "but inflating your lungs isn't exactly going to help you sprout breasts, Ayato."

"I don't need to sprout breasts, silly," Ayato waved his hand at Marik. "I've got melons. They're the perfect size too…all round and supple and tend---"

"OKAY, that's enough, thank you," I said loudly, blushing furiously. "A-and, what do you mean, I'll be _joining_ you?"

"But of course!" Ayato exclaimed, looking at me with his most shocked and outrageous expression. "My dear, sweet Ryou, you neglect to realize that you and I are all part in one great manifesto! The one soul mission!"

"And what is that?" I asked weakly.

Ayato grinned at me and struck a dramatic pose. "The mission of…"

He thrust his hand into the air. "MEN'S ROMANCE!"

* * *

Oh the joy of head-desking!

That, if anything, had probably been the most embarrassing lunch conversation I had ever had with anyone. My forehead was probably stark red from collapsing face-forward onto the coffee-table so much. After Marik and I had regained our motor control over our mouths, Ayato had proceeded to ask Marik to convince me to come dressed as a bride.

Oh, how wicked of Ayato! To use Marik against me!

Of course, I had to say yes, the way Marik was teasing me and flirting with me and pleading with me. Now, waiting for Marik to pick us up for the masquerade ball, I was nervously fidgeting with my dress.

It was evening now, a beautifully dusky evening. Winter was upon us. Oh, how I loved winter! The snowflakes and the white blanket that carpeted the night made everything ever so more romantic. I loved crunching my feet among the snow…making snow angels, catching snowflakes…as I fiddled with my skirt, I wondered if Marik ever saw snow before. He had always been in Egypt, so…

…Oh, how I loved snow. So white, so pure. So much like…

My heart sank a little sadly at the idea of my Angel at all. Snow…it was so pure, so white, just the same shade of my Angel's hair.

I caught sight of Marik downstairs waiting for me. With glee, I hurried down, and we hurried to the ball in the school's main foyer.

* * *

Music surrounded us as we entered the main foyer. Marik, oh, how handsomely was he dressed! He had come as a soldier, a wonderful French soldier, with a black suit and gold cord-buttons. One of his sleeves had been taken off and slung over his shoulder, and the shirt underneath was black. A sword hung from his hip.

"Is that real?" I gasped. Marik chuckled and patted it.

"Of course." Marik bent down to kiss me on the cheek. "And you, my beautiful bride? How are you?"

I giggled, flushing behind my white mask. Despite what Ayato said, I told him that I would NOT show up in a pink gown, under whatever circumstance! So, Ayato had settled for a pink gown and left earlier than me; I had chosen a white gown tinted with blue. It was terribly plain, as I didn't like standing out whatsoever. The puff sleeves hung off my shoulders, and my waist was narrowed down with a simple embroidery of blue ribbons and thread. The skirt of my gown was cut in the shape of an A, so it was not too puffy, not too grand. Once more, blue ribbons decorated the side trailing down from my waist to the bottom the skirt. A large, satin blue ribbon was pinned to the back of my waist, and in my gloved hands, I held a half-mask that covered my forehead down to my nose. It was decorated with blue and silver feathers, something that I as proud to say that I had made myself.

Marik reached out with his arm and bowed, like a perfect gentleman. I smiled fondly and accepted his hand.

At the doorway, I heard the orchestra begin another grand song. I squealed, remembering that I had taught this song to Malik so long ago, and how he looked puzzlingly sad.

I clutched Marik's hand excitedly. "Marik! It's _Masquerade_!"

I felt Marik nod, and watched as Yami and Seto Kaiba make their way in front of us. I raised my eyebrow and giggled lightly. Yami (when I told Yugi about my Angel, he had told me about the Pharaoh that lived in his Puzzle as well…now, we called him Yami…I could tell the difference only when Yami talked or when his eyes were especially narrowed… as they were now.) was dressed as an Egyptian pharaoh, with the Sennen Puzzle and all, and Kaiba-kun was dressed as a great sea-god…around his ears was turquoise fins and his mask was blue and green, strung with imitation seaweed and dotted with pearl beads.

I giggled again. The way those two were entering, one would think that they were a couple of sorts!

Kaiba-kun looked proudly through the door. _"Dear Yugi, what a splendid party! We're off to a brand new year!"_

_"What a night!"_ Yami agreed._ "I'm impressed!"_

_"Well one does one's best," _Kaiba boasted.

Yami raised his hand. "_Here's to us!"_

_"I must say for all the city that it's a pity that the Phantom fellow can't be here!"_

They entered, and as we were just behind them, Marik and I entered too. I gasped.

Dancers…so many dancers and so many people! Two golden staircases trailed from each side of the room. Dancers of many shades, all wearing masks, twirled and flipped and danced in unison to the music. The orchestra was sitting in the middle, dutifully conducted.

I caught sight of Anzu in the main row of the dancers. I grinned happily for her. I knew of her dream to become a dancer…what a night for her to dress up as such a lovely sprite and to wear that black and white mask with every other talented dancer on those stairs!

I heard the crescendo. I sang along too!

_Masquerade!_ _Paper faces on parade!_

_Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!_

I squealed and grabbed Marik's hand. He laughed his rare laugh and took my hands, before pressing me close to him, one hand resting on my waist. He took the first step; I stepped back, and we continued this way, this dance.

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade!_

_Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!_

I sang as I danced with Marik, him twirling me about. His eyes twinkled at me, and he began to sing with me too. As he swirled me about, I caught sight of the people on the main staircase; how Anzu was dancing in her white-blue feathery skirt, her brown hair stranded with lapis leaves and her black and white mask on her face.

_Flash of mauve, splash of puce!_

_Fool and king, ghoul and goose!_

_Green and black, queen and priest!_

_Face a rogue, face a beast!_

She was truly a talented dancer. How she flipped her hands and arched her torso left and right and center, her flexible legs sweeping in tune to the song…I gave her a grin and she nodded to me, as I could not see her smile behind the mask. She truly deserved to go to New York and dance, as she's always dreamed.

_Faces!_

_Take a turn, take a ride!_

_On a merry-go-round_

_In an inhuman race!_

More dancers tapped around us; many of them wore the same masks, and many of them also held great big gold fans. They flicked them and flashed them as they turned their heads in tune to the music. I felt Marik hold me closer and spin me faster. I squealed and hung to him, my arms wrapped around his neck.

_Eye of gold, true is false!_

_Who is who?_

_Curl of lip, swirl of gown!_

_Ace of hearts, face a clown!  
_

I saw Jonouchi as he came tumbling down the steps of the stairway, wearing a ruffled collar and a pointed hat. His whole outfit was baggy and spotted with black dots; on his nose was a red ball.

Honda came after him, dressed as a gangster. "Hey man!" he yelled. "You should've totally come as a mutt. Although, the clown does fit you…"

"Ah, shaddup!" Jonouchi grinned, hitting the friend over in the head. I giggled and swirled away, watching as they disappeared into the crowds.

What a night!

_Faces! _

_Drink it in, drink it up_

_Till you've drowned in the light,_

_In the sound_

_But who can name the face?_

I saw Ayato at the top of the left staircase. He was flipping up his pink skirt, horribly frilly and his mask was a glaringly bright, neon pink angular sunglasses looking as if they had come from the fifties. He had decorated his red hair with a large, Mary-Antoinette red wig, piled high on his head, and strung with flowers and …I snickered…little milk cartons.

He waved at me, as I was the only other boy possibly wearing a WEDDING GOWN. "Ryou darling!"

"Oh gods," I mumbled, flushing and laughing. "Marik, bring me away before I see something I don't want to!"

Marik laughed again and directed me away, telling Ayato, "Maybe later!" as Ayato swirled around and flipped up his skirt again, revealing, (what Marik told me), pink lace and pantyhose. I did NOT need to hear that!

_Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!_

_Masquerade! Take your fill of the spectacle around you!_

Marik and I danced into a corner, and grinned as we watched more people come down the steps. Anzu was once again, dancing, except this time, Ayato had intercepted, and was dancing with her in front of everyone. Thankfully Anzu and Ayato were good friends and had quick heads; both Anzu and Ayato could improvise very quickly and very well!

_Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!_

_Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!_

The music changed slightly, more delicate. Everyone suddenly changed moves and began to tiptoe to the music, like ballerinas. I laughed in fun and joy as Marik picked me up and let me rise myself on my toes…I had never been a good ballet dancer and too many a times I had stumbled on Marik when our Father was teaching us how to dance different dances.

_Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies!_

_Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!_

The music regained back it's crescendo and impressive burst. I looked back at Marik and smiled fondly.

Well, at least both Marik and I knew how to ballroom dance…the most romantic dance of them all…

_Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes!_

_Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you!_

I watched again as Mai and Rex (since Mano was gone, Rex replaced him) came down the steps. They looked so funny together; I had to laugh. Mai being so tall and bearing so much of her breasts (here I blushed) and Rex barely up to her shoulder, in fact, just past her elbow, and holding her like how Marik was holding me. He was dressed in a little tuxedo, but by his size, he looked no more impressive than…than an adorable waiter!

I giggled and shook my head. How could I be thinking such thoughts?

Oh well. It was a nigh for everyone to laugh, for everyone to have fun. Be someone they were not or truly are, and be laughed at, without any sense of bitterness or mockery. It was a fun night; everyone laughed at everyone without the hurt or fear. It was pure. It was …carefree joy!

"_What a night!"_

"_What a crowd!"_

"_Makes you glad!"_

"_Makes you proud!"_

"_All the crème de la crème…"_

"_Watching us and watching them…"_

Madame Giry came too, and her fan was possibly the biggest one I had ever seen. Isis and Shadi came up behind her, both of them looking so distant. Isis had (appropriately) dressed up as a gypsy fortune teller, her long black hair bundled up in an elegant turban that was the same color of her eyes. A red feather protruded from the scarab beetle on her turban.

I looked at Marik, and he groaned at me. I giggled. In my opinion, Isis was very beautiful as a gypsy fortune teller!

_All our fears are in the past_

_Three years of relief_

_Of delight!_

Shadi, strangely enough, and came as an Egyptian priest. He had taken off his turban, and I was surprised to see that he was bald underneath all that! He had painted some strange lines on the top of his shiny head, and his shoulders were decorated in big gold amour.

All in all, Shadi looked intimidatingly impressive.

_And may the splendor never fade!_

_What a blessed release!_

Madame Giry came up, and waved her fan.

_And what a masquerade!_

While this was all happening, Marik had taken me away to a private corner. In the privacy of this corner, he surprised me with a…a ring…?

"Ryou," Marik whispered. "Will you marry me?"

I was so shocked, so surprised that Marik would ever even think of marrying me. But the diamond ring in his hand said it all…he loved me! But did I want to marry him? Of course! He was my childhood friend, my protector, my friend, my brother, my everything! Could I ever live without seeing those amethyst eyes, without smelling his sandy, desert smell?

No, I couldn't. I loved Marik! I always had, my childhood best friend!

But some rational part of my head whispered at me. We had to keep it a secret…

I took the ring, and hooked it onto a thin chain that hung from my neck. Smiling at him dreamily, I took his hand.

_"Think of it!" _I sang. _"A secret engagement. Look! Your future bride…Just think of it!"_

_"But why is it secret?" _Marik sang back. _"What have we to hide?"_

I was quick to stop him, the logical part of my head immediately noting that we could not tell anyone of this engagement. It was too dangerous.

_"No, Marik, please don't!"_

_"Well then let them see," _Marik sang. _"It's an engagement, not a crime!" _He paused, and gently took my face in his chin. _"Ryou, what are you afraid of…?"_

I smiled sadly and shook my head, remembering my Angel's proposal to me. I couldn't accept…I really couldn't. _"Let's not argue…"_

_"Let's not argue," _he agreed. But I pressed.

_"Please pretend…"_

_"I can only hope…"_

_"Only hope that you will understand in time!" _we both sang together.

We re-entered the ballroom, and this time, I felt no more guilt about our engagement. We had told no one, no one would know, no one could harm us. My Angel was gone, and as much as I loved him, if he was gone, there was no way I could tell him that if we had some time alone…that I could possibly marry him.

Marik had come first. He had proven to me that I could rely on him, no matter what. How was I to deny that?

We paused once more…and he bent down to kiss me. I closed my eyes and accepted…

_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade!_

_Masquerade!_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you!_

We broke the kiss, and stopped dancing…just watching the people dance around us, admiring the wonderful display. It truly was beautiful.

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade! _

_Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you! _

_Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!_

_Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!_

I smiled as Ayato swept Anzu off her feet and gave her a kiss. How ridiculous to see a bride kissing a sprite! When I turned, however, Marik dipped me the same way, and kissed me again.

_Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!_

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!_

Suddenly though, the happy music ended ominously. Everyone nearest to the right staircase began to scream. As they cleared away, I saw a man…a handsomely beautiful man standing at the doorway…I gasped.

No….how could it be? Just as…just as I thought he had left me forever…!

I could feel my doom impending on me. I nearly fainted right then and there, in Marik's arms.

My Angel…of all the places…he had returned!

* * *

Marik POV

My eyes lingered warily at the door. Ryou had stiffened next to me. I could smell his fear building up and radiating in droves. His grip on my hand clenched so tightly that I could slowly feel my fingers tingling from numbness.

The room darkened. Everyone stilled.

There. On top of the staircase. A boy with long, silver hair, nearly white… dressed in red…his face…

…covered in a black mask…

Without a doubt, I instantly knew I met my match. This was him. Ryou's dark angel.

The Phantom of the Sennen Ring.

* * *

Malik POV

There he was…Bakura! Was it him? Was it truly him?

He had changed so much…no longer was his skin the familiar bronze color that I had donned…no longer was his hair short and croppy and rough to the touch. They were long, silky smooth and almost luminescent in the dim candle-light.

_Marik, _I hissed at my yami, who had blocked me and suppressed me since our initiation. _Marik, dammit, let me out._

_I've kept you in there long enough,_ Marik snapped back at me. _You are not running this for me, do you understand?_

I cursed in my native Egyptian and beat hard against the clear soul-hourglass that Marik had confined me in. Ever since I was too weak to suffer the initiation alone, with or without Ryou's help, Marik had locked me away here, in a cage, a clear hourglass in the recess of the Shadows.

Marik was nice enough sometimes to let me out, but I knew he liked the control he had over my body. Especially if it meant being by Ryou's side.

_Marik, you stupid, thick-headed pig!_ I yelled at him. _Marik, let me out, damn it!_

_You yelling in my head is not helping whatsoever! _Marik snarled back at me. _Quiet!_

_It's. BAKURA. _I yelled in frustration._ Let me out! I have to talk to him!_

_No._

I cursed at Marik loudly for his stubbornness, and returned to watching Bakura from his eyes. Bakura…

My heart began to weigh down sadly in my chest. Bakura…how much have you changed? No longer was he the strong, handsome man that I had admired and loved and adored…the way he carried himself now, so slender, so elegantly, so smoothly…it was like as if he wasn't even real.

Like a fragment of my dreams…

I watched him, taking one step at a time, down the staircase. He was dressed all in red, a beautiful, deep crimson red suit. White silk ruffled around his neck and tight, silver pants ending in sleek black boots…from his shoulders, a red and black cape flew behind him as he took each step down the stairs. His long silver hair was enchantingly flying in the still air, giving him the mysterious impression of a ghost. The Sennen Ring hung from his neck.

And on his face…I nearly cried when I saw his face.

A black mask…a beautiful, full black mask that was dotted in diamonds around his eyes, and bordered with phoenix feathers…

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and my heart ache. It was the very same mask Rishid and I made for Bakura at our last masquerade ball.

His eyes seemed to fall at me at some point, and I could see his bitter, hateful smirk that glowed from beneath that mask. He was mocking me, and he was enjoying it!

He turned away, and looked at everyone, a black folder in his gloved hands, and a skull-headed cane in the other.

One step. Another step. Another. And another.

"_Why so** silent**, good **monsieurs**?"_ he smirked. I gasped. His voice…it was softer and more beautiful than I last remembered. _"Did you **think** that I had left you for **good**…?"_

Each of his words was punctuated with another step. Everyone was silent.

_"Have you** missed **me, good monsieurs?" _he sang, mockingly, _"I have written you an opera!"_ He held up the black book proudly.

_"Here I bring the finished score…" _Suddenly, he grandly threw the book down at our feet. The score few out and scattered on the floor. "_**DON JUAN TRIUMPHANT!**"_

He had reached the bottom of the stairs now. His gloved fingers let the cane dance lightly between his hands. As he passed by the Pharaoh and Seto, he tapped Seto lightly on the chest with the cane.

_"I advise you to comply, my instructions should be clear…"_ His voice was so soft, but lined so cruelly with mockery. "_Remember there are worse things than a **shattered chandelier**!"_

His eyes glimmered at me when he sang this. I swallowed hard. The dancing boy that was murdered…when he was hung, the pharaoh's chandelier had dropped.

His eyes narrowed at me, and he began to stalk towards us. I felt myself stiffen and swallow, as this was the first time I had been so close to him again. He raked his eyes carefully over Marik's form, before his eyes glinted in utter contempt. Slowly, they went from Marik's eyes to the boy next to us…Ryou, Ryou, my dear, childhood friend…

I felt a twinge of jealousy rush through me. Bakura!

At Ryou's face, Bakura's eyes (could it be!) softened very slightly. Slowly, he stepped closer to Ryou, lowering his head so romantically and so gentlemanly to Ryou. Just as their foreheads were about to touch, Bakura slowly slid out his hand, and gently fondled the ring that hung from Ryou's neck.

I felt myself bristling. Damn it, Bakura, how dare you mock our relationship this way! Three thousand years ago, that was MY ring hanging from MY neck!

Ryou stiffened, and tears began to well up in his eyes. I scowled. Baby.

He slowly raised his hand, and slowly reached out to Bakura's face. Bakura nearly closed his eyes, nearly allowed Ryou to touch his face…so hesitantly, as if Ryou was unsure if Bakura was real at all…

Suddenly, Bakura's eyes lost any of the tenderness they had possibly ever gained. With an expression of pure spite and disgust, he slapped away Ryou's hand and ripped the ring from Ryou's neck.

"_Your chains are still mine! YOU BELONG TO ME!"_

I felt Marik lose all control by now. Before I could protest, Marik had launched himself at Bakura, swept out his sword, and aimed it straight at Bakura's heart.

But Bakura proved to be a much better thief, even though 3,000 years had passed. He swiftly ducked backwards under Marik's sword, and before any of us could so anything, the floor beneath us flipped open, and Marik, Bakura and I, fell into a deep, dark pit of hatred.

* * *

Darkness flashed past us as the wind whistled in our ears. Marik still had his calm and was looking instantly for a way out. When he saw the floor beneath us, he swiftly bent his knees and allowed us to land fine. When we looked around us, however, that's when we began to panic.

Or at least, I did.

Surrounding us, entirely surrounding us, were mirrors. Flipping mirrors, rotating mirrors, mirrors at every angle and showed us looking to and fro for a way out. Yes, I began to panic. Marik, however, stayed cool, and watched carefully as each mirror spun and flipped and twisted and slid.

_Oh Ra, oh Ra, oh Ra, _I began to blubber. _Oh Ra…_

_Quit your incessant whimpering, Light!_ Marik snapped at me. _He's here…_

I looked up, and nearly cried again when I saw Bakura's face, cold and set in stone, staring at us from each mirror. I closed my hands over my ears and gripped my hair tightly. This distorted house of mirrors…I remembered this…!

_"Bakura, why won't you just look in the mirror?"_

_"I've always been taught not to."_

_"But why? Your face isn't ugly…it's…"_

_"That's not the point. Mirrors…mirrors can drive one into madness, Malik. One can't bear seeing his own face reflection thousand-folds and remain sane. It's human nature to question oneself after seeing themselves too many times."_

"You remembered," Bakura's lips mouthed at us from the mirrors. I gave a heart-broken sob and looked up.

"Of course I remembered," I whispered. "How could I not?"

Marik seethed and randomly brought his sword out at a mirror. It cracked over Bakura's face, but Bakura remained motionless, not even once blinking or even flinching. Marik cursed again and turned to stab at another mirror, but to no avail. I remembered this torture chamber. I knew it well.

_Marik! _I yelled. _Marik, stop, if you keep doing this, you'll go insane!_

_Oh, as if I'm not already, _Marik said sarcastically back at me. I bristled angrily and began to ram the Shadow-prison with my shoulder.

_Damn it, Marik, LET ME OUT. YOU DON'T KNOW BAKURA LIKE I DO!_

_LEAVE US ALONE! HE HURT RYOU, AND HE IS GOING TO PAY!_

I screamed my frustration and pummeled at my prison. _BAKURA! PLEASE, LET ME TALK TO BAKURA!_

Suddenly, Marik froze, and something gold shined brightly at us from the mirrors. The intensity of it all forced Marik away in my body and back in the recess of my mind. Taking this chance, I quickly grabbed the Rod from his belt, and forced my way through the prison and into my body.

_Shit,_ Marik cursed at me. I grinned as I passed his sprit form.

_I'll give it back to you later,_ I said. _I have no use for my own body if Bakura is not there._

With that said, I quickly gained control over my own body. For so many years, Marik had taken control, only letting me use my body once per day. The long hair that shot up to the skies fell and flopped in front of my face. I pouted and blew the bangs away and quickly brushed my hair to place. Stupid Marik…had he ever heard of a comb before?

"Still the same, I see," a familiar, cold voice floated at us. I quickly brushed away my hair and looked up to see Bakura standing in front of me. This time, it was no reflection, and the Sennen Ring was softly glowing on his chest. I smiled weakly.

"You helped me put Marik away," I said softly.

"Temporarily," Bakura said shortly, his red eyes glaring at me coldly. "What do you want?"  
I bit my lip and tried to find an explanation. "You…you want to talk to me?"

Bakura said nothing, and continued staring at me through the holes of his black mask. Suddenly, his lips curled back, and he hissed venomously at me.

"You _betrayed_ me."

"No, no!" I quickly said. "No, Bakura, please listen!"

"You Ishtals are all the same, three thousand years or not!" Bakura spat at me. "When will you finally stop interfering with my blasted life and destroying my dreams?"

I was quiet for a moment, shocked that he considered our life together as 'destroying his dreams'. I felt my heart weigh down and lurch at the same time.

"Bakura," I breathed, hurt. "…Is that…is that really what you thought us…together…was? Just…a way to destroy your dreams?"

Bakura's lips curled into such a disgusted sneer that I was once again startled. I had never been one to be inflicted by his upturned nose or his coldness…I had been his friend, his savior, his…his lover!

"You destroyed my world when I discovered Rishid instead of you that night," Bakura hissed. He flexed his fingers around the handle of this sword. "You ought to be pleased that I hadn't killed him yet…"

"Don't you dare hurt him!" I cried out. "Bakura, you have to stop this! You have to stop this madness!"

"What madness?" Bakura spat at me. "This is no madness! This is…" He raised his hands to the ceiling, in some sort of marvelous and grand gesture. "…Don Juan Triumphant!"

He turned to glare at me once more, gloved hand still in the air. "Do you recall who called me Don Juan when we were together, Malik?" Bakura breathed. "…Do you?"

I felt my heart sink again. I shamefully lowered my eyes to his feet.

"I did."

Bakura nodded. "Correct. You see, Malik…" Bakura began to walk towards me, his struts so much more graceful than before…so much softer, more…deceivingly gentle.

He came to a stop just short in front of me. I felt tears prickle in my eyes: angry and sad.

"You see, Malik…" Bakura whispered. "Ryou doesn't call me such degrading names. You see, he has thought of me as someone much more worthwhile than just a simple seduction archetype. I am…" Here, Bakura raised my chin with his fingers. I glared at him, angry that he even dare bring up Ryou after all we had been through.

Bakura smirked. "To him, Malik," Bakura breathed, "I am his _angel._ Was I ever that to you? Hmn? An _angel?_"

I wrenched my face away from his grip. "You're too dark to be an angel!" I yelled at him. "How dare you do this to me? To mock our relationship with _Ryou_? You and your precious _Ryou?_ "

"How dare you raise your voice at _me_, _prince?_" Bakura retorted back. "You dare to ask us how I mock our relationship this way…how I tease it and cruelly twist it in such a way that's not true? Because it was NOT. It was NOT true!"

"How dare you say that!" I yelled at him. "It was true! It was true to me! I thought THAT-" I pointed at the ring in his pocket- "THAT was MY ring before! I thought THAT meant something to us!"

"It DID!" Bakura yelled at me. "But it obviously wasn't important enough for you to keep, was it? Rishid gave it to me after you left me! And you…you still dare to come between the only dream I have now? The only chance I have with someone who might actually …" Here, Bakura abruptly stopped. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed at me, and he seethed, fang bared and red eyes glowing fiery. "…You…" he whispered at me. "You…it's just like you to stop me between anything I wish to do. But hear me say this now…"

Bakura took another step towards me, his face nearly an inch from mine. I seethed and took a step back. This was…this was so unlike the Bakura I knew before…and yet…so very much the same…

"I will not stop, Malik," Bakura hissed, "I will not stop tormenting and humiliating our once relationship as you have humiliated me. If you watch Don Juan, you will understand. And furthermore…"

Suddenly, Bakura's hand shot out, and he grabbed the collar of the French military outfit that Marik (now I) had donned. His strength still immensely impressive, Bakura hoisted me off my feet without so much as a flinch, until my feet dangled about a few inches above the ground.

I gagged and winced, clutching at his wrist. His eyes did not leave mine, merely boring into mine coldly, mercilessly.

"…Tell Marik to stop trying with Ryou," Bakura whispered. "Should he come one more step near a kilometer of Ryou once more, know this…" Bakura threw me away from him. "…That I will show you no mercy. Once my lover or not, Malik, I care for you no more."

With that said, Bakura swiftly turned away from me, and headed to the wall of mirrors. Pausing, he turned back to face me once more, his dark red cloak shielding his whole body, and his long silver hair floating eerily enchantingly above his shoulders.

"Even if I do kill you, Malik," Bakura called, "I'd have no regrets." He tapped his mask and for once, I saw him smirk. "_Au revior_."

Before I could do anything, there was a great puff of white smoke, engulfing Bakura's whole shadow. Bitter smoke surged up my nose and down my throat, forcing me to cough and hack and get to my knees. When the smoke cleared, Bakura was gone, and the room was empty.

A hand quickly came out of nowhere, and grabbed my wrist. I turned around, ready to strike, only to see…

My eyes widened. "Isis?"

She put a finger to her lips and quickly pulled me to her. "This way," she whispered. "This way."

We made our way through the basement and the corridors, winding through the undergrounds of the opera house and boarding school. I looked around in awe. For so long, I had been a prisoner in my own body, that for once, when I was finally in control, I couldn't help but cherish it.

I touched engravings on the walls, cloth tapestries as they hung from the ceiling. The entire underground was strangely enthralling…the work of a true architect, I had to admit.

_Stupid Light,_ Marik snorted at me. I rolled my eyes.

_Please? Just this moment with my sister? _I pleaded. _I've never asked for anything more._

Marik, as cold as he could be sometimes, was actually decently civil to me. He allowed me to regain control of my body, and allowed me to see my sister. I gave him a soul-hug of thanks (he stiffened and didn't hug me back; rather, he pushed me away and shoved me back in my body.)

_Using your body is like driving a car,_ Marik snapped. _Keep your eyes on the road._

I snickered and returned back to my body. I finally squeezed Isis's hand.

"Isis," I said, very relieved. "What…what are you doing here?"

"I'm just a messenger," my sister said shortly. I huffed and gripped her hand.

"You're not just any messenger," I protested. "You're the Pharaoh's…"

"No," Isis said brusquely. "No, I'm not. I'm Fate's messenger…which includes the Pharaoh, and Bakura."

I frowned. "How did you know I was here? Where are we going?"

"I'm a messenger," my sister said again. She led us through the hallways and the doors, and quickly pushed one at the farthest corner away from us. "Quickly. In here."

As I stumbled through the darkness of the doorway, I heard Isis follow me and quickly click the door shut. After hearing the snap of the lock, I felt my sister take my hand again and lead me to what felt like a chair. A flicker of light illuminated the room as my sister was quick to light a candle, and softly set it on a wooden table next to the desk.

I slowly sat myself down on the soft cushion of the French chair. "You know, I would've thought you'd say something about missing me…"

Isis looked at me sharply, before seating herself quietly on the seat in front of me. "Of course I missed you," Isis said softly. "How could I not miss my own brother?"

I felt guilty for not trying to regain control of my body after my initiation. I reached over and petted her hand.

"Well, I'm not back for long," I admitted. "But I've got some of my anger down, so….I'm better now."

"Marik won't be too happy to hear that," Isis said. I shrugged.

"We'll come to an agreement of sorts…" I patted the Rod. "Usually I got the night, he got the day. On days when there weren't a lot of people I could go out in the sunlight…but…" I shrugged again. "I got to see everything anyway….and I got to make my own set of friends at night…I don't know, Marik actually lets me out a lot, we kinda subconsciously switch every some…day…"

"Malik," Isis said warningly. "You're rambling, little brother."

"Ah." I blushed and sheepishly scratched my head. "Sorry."

Isis sighed, shoulders hunching over. Her eyes suddenly filled with such sadness and remorse, I couldn't help but fall back into seriousness again.

"Isis," I said firmly, "you have to tell me what happened to Bakura after I left. He wouldn't listen to me."

Isis sighed, and shook her head. "I know no more than you, Malik."

"That's not true!" I insisted. "You fought him! There must have been a reason why he hates me now. Please…Isis, tell me."

Slowly, Isis turned to look at me, her blue eyes shining distantly. "…You honestly don't know what happened to him?"

"No," I said. "Isis…please…tell me."

With another sigh, Isis straightened her back, and turned her face away from me. When she spoke, her voice was very distant, and very soft. It was as if she was recalling something she didn't wish to.

"When you…left for your initiation," Isis began quietly, "Bakura…he didn't know. Nobody knew…except me and Rishid. And even after you went for your initiation…even after that…we did not know what happened…"

"What did happen?" I asked. "Why was I taken away in the first place?"

Isis sighed and rubbed her fingers against one another in her lap. "…Father knew…" she said softly. "He knew about…your relationship with Bakura…a long time before he died. He…didn't want you to get distracted…so without you knowing, he arranged for you to be taken away when the switch was made. Rishid…Rishid and I tried our best to talk him out of it…but he wouldn't…" Isis sighed again. "…Rishid nearly died that night trying to allow you and Bakura to go home free…neither you nor Bakura ever saw his scars of that beating…"

I suddenly felt sick, my whole body slowing down. I slowly slumped into my seat.

"Father…Father knew?" I echoed.

Isis nodded. "I never told Bakura that it was your father who sabotaged the plan," Isis said. "I never had the chance. When he was captured, under our father's orders, he was kept in a cell far away from the palace…I never knew where it was, or what had happened to him…if I did, I would've visited…"

"A cell…far away," I repeated in dead horror. "Isis….you know what they do to prisoners far away from the palace…where no one checks on them. A sentence there…it means so many years of…"

Isis lowered her eyes and nodded sadly. "Yes," she whispered. "I believe Bakura was tortured very badly for many years…but there was nothing I could do."

I slowly sank against my seat again, my breath suddenly feeling very weak and limp in the air. Bakura…oh, my sweet Baku…how they must've tormented him because of his face…I lowered my head and buried my face into my hand. Baku…my sweet Baku…

I bit my lip, looking away in mourning, my hand now sliding to my mouth as I shook my head. No…this couldn't have been true…

"It gets worse," Isis whispered apologetically.

My head shot up. "How could it get worse?"

Isis lowered her head again. "…I didn't know where he was," she explained again, "but…after I heard of his execution…people wanted his execution public, I imagine…I found out where he was kept. I sent Masquerade…that wonderful score he wrote, did you know?...to him. But...when I went to the temporary cell where they kept him…they were going to execute him publicly near the Nile…he didn't see me, but I saw the guards rip up the score…" Isis closed her eyes. "…It disgusted me," she told me. "I immediately had those guards removed and went to see Bakura…but when I got to the cell, he was no longer there…he had slipped away.

"When I returned to the palace, disheartened that I'd never see him again…the guards told me he had been caught again, and they were going to move up his execution date to the near future. He must've broken out that day. Because the next time I saw him…"

"You saw him again?" I shot up, clenching my fists with worry. "You saw him again?"

Isis raised her head. Her eyes, however, did not show any happiness, nor any relief that she had seen him. "Malik," she whispered, "the next time I met him, he wasn't your servant anymore. Do you know what they called him?"

I shook my head.

"Malik," Isis sighed. "They called him the King of Thieves. He was no longer our sweet little musician or our wondrous performer. When he came back, I hardly recognized him…I had never seen his face naked before…"

My eyes widened. "He wasn't wearing the mask?" I exclaimed, jumping out of my seat. "Why?"

Isis looked at me with an unreadable gaze. "That…I'm afraid I can't tell you," Isis said, straightening up and looking away. "His scar is the business between the Pharaoh and those who wield Shadow magic."

I huffed and jabbed the head of the Rod at her. "Sister," I said, "what does this look like to you?"

Isis rolled her eyes and pushed the head away. "That's not my point," Isis said. "His scar is only between the Pharoah, himself, and us priests. Those destined to duel once more in the Shadow games, which YOU…" She stood, and poked me in the chest in a very sisterly way, "…are not part of."

I scowled and pushed her finger away, slowly returning to my seat. In turn, Isis also slowly sat down, and I looked at her darkly. She turned to me and ignored my grumpy, childish mood.

"Why weren't you there?" Isis whispered. "Why didn't you find him again? He was so upset…he hated you for not finding him…"

I gawked at Isis. "Isis," I said, "you can hardly blame me."

Isis looked at me strangely. "What do you mean?"

"Isis," I said weakly. "I was _dead._"

* * *

Woooh, I thought that this was going to be a short chapter, but** twenty two pages**…man, this thing is long. Thankfully, the rest of Malik's story will be continued in the next chapter.

**Btw, an important note.** For those especially touched that Bakura and Mailk shared "this song", did you guys feel a little bit disgusted or sick or offended that Marik and Ryou were using it for "their song" as well? I mean, the last Masquerade song felt just so much more special when I wrote it…when I wrote this one, I wanted to demonstrate that sort of mockery Malik kept on feeling…that Marik and Ryou would dare destroy Bakura's heart and yet, still use his song to portray _their_ love. Did you guys feel that at all?

Man, I love writing Thief Bakura / Malik masquerade way better than I liked writing Marik/ Ryou masquerade. Writing TKB/Malik was just so much more…romantic..and sweet! This was…I was like, "Man, what am I making them into? I know Ryou doesn't know that this was Bakura's song, but still…Marik you jerk, you should know!"

The rest of Marik's and Malik's story can be revealed next chapter, but you guys can kinda guess already. I left a couple of clues. And for those who aren't sure how the story will end…it's really based off Phantom of the Opera, with some slight Yu-GI-Oh adjustments (like Malik and Bakura…Malik was sort of Nadir ….for those who have read Phantom). So you guys kinda can guess already how this will turn out…I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!


	16. Mon Phantome

Chapter Sixteen: Mon Phantome

Malik POV

Isis looked at me blankly. "What?" she said finally, very un-distantly.

I sighed and nodded tiredly, holding my forehead in my hand. "I was dead. There was no way that I could've gone back to Bakura. I was dead."

Isis looked at me quizzically, her eyes narrowing and her eyebrows furrowed. "But you...I lost contact with you after so long...is that why? But how...how did you die? You were always a healthy little boy..."

I sighed again and slumped back against my chair, rubbing my head and eyes. "I don't know...I got...I got really confused, I guess, when they took me away. I didn't even know that Rishid and I were switched. They just took me away and told me that Bakura was waiting for me. After I followed him, I was told I needed to get my initiation..." I sighed again. "Isis...do you remember, a long time ago, when Ryou was living with us...he tried to stop my initiation?"

Isis nodded. "Yes...he was very upset that you were going to be hurt...as were you..." Here, her eyes narrowed considerably at the Rod in my hands; I knew what she was trying to say.

I sighed again. "Well...when I got my initiation in Egypt that time, when they tricked me from going with Bakura...I...I don't know...I got...I got really angry, and I got really sad." I felt my eyes prickle slightly. "I...I loved him so much, and when I found out that I was not even going to be with him...go with him...I got so angry, and I got so upset..." I began to shake. "Isis...I created him again...that time when Bakura was taken away from me...Marik...Marik took over..."

Isis's eyes flashed and she stood. "You mean to say...Marik was there? He had already been born 3,000 years ago?"

I nodded and wiped my eyes quickly. "I don't remember much of what had happened...I don't know...Marik got really upset and after a couple days after our initiation, he got into a fight with a couple of the guards because they tried to restrain him...I myself was too tired...to fight him..."I weakly looked up. "Next thing I know, Marik's gotten into a fight, he's bleeding in my body, and I haven't even gotten over my pain and misery to even go find Bakura. Marik...he screwed ...he screwed a lot of things up, but he protected me...he took the pain for me when I couldn't handle it during my initiation." I lowered my head again. "I don't know, I...we tried to get out, we tried to escape, Marik helped me escape when I was too sad too, but he got into a fight...we didn't make it out alive..."

I clutched my head and slowly began to cry. "I couldn't...I couldn't get back to Bakura..." I sobbed. "...And he hates me now..."

Slowly, as I cried, I felt my sister move towards me. Her arms found my shoulders and wrapped them tight to her. Having nearly forgotten the simple comfort of my beloved sister's arms, I lost my control and burst into tears, holding onto her like the small little boy that I had always been.

* * *

Ryou POV 

I don't know what possessed me to return here, but I did. Shortly after the incident of the masquerade ball, Marik was nowhere to be seen. When he did return to me, he was looking very grim and very solemn. I was in a hurry; I had recieved note from my Angel that he had returned, and that I was to resume my lessons at once.

"Where are you going?" Marik demanded as he tried to stop me from leaving my dorm room. I couldn't look at him when I replied.

"...Out," I said simply. Marik didn't believe me and gripped my arm tightly.

"You're going back to him, aren't you?" Marik said, almost bitterly. "Why are you going back to him?"

I couldn't turn back and look at Marik when I replied. I kept my back to him and tried to hold my quivering voice at bay.

"I have to," I said, my voice strained. Marik yanked me towards him and forced me to look at him.

"And what about our engagment?" Marik demanded of me. "What about our marriage?"

I couldn't bear to look into his eyes and quickly turned away. Tears surged and brimmed at the corners of my eyes, threatening to shed. Dark bags hung from underneath my eyes and my cheeks had gotten slightly thinner from not eating since the Masquerade Ball. I sank into Marik's grip tiredly and shook my head, refusing to look at him.

"There's nothing I can do," I whispered heart-brokenly. I gently pried my arm away from his grip. "We'll...we'll have to ...break it off."

Without looking back at Marik, I fled to the museum where I was to meet my Angel once more. My cloak flapped behind, echoing after the silence that tried to follow. I couldn't look back at Marik. I knew I was breaking his heart this way, but there was no possible way we could possibly ever marry with the presence of my Angel. I had already told him that.

What I did not tell him was that even after we admitted our love on the rooftop that night, I had not expected my Angel to leave. I had thought that he was still there; I had never intended to be so close to Marik after we confronted one another. I may have loved him, yes, but my Angel came first. When my Angel left, I found out that I had loved Marik because he was so reliable, so caring; he was there to talk to when I was unsure of my Angel's intent.

Now my Angel was back. I could not return to Marik, no matter how much I wished I could still grip that childhood love we had before.

* * *

"You came," my Angel said coldly when I arrived in the darkness of the museum. "I'm impressed." 

I winced, standing awkwardly at the locked entrance of the museum. I watched in detached dread as my Angel began to walk towards me. He was donning a full suit; complete with kerchief, vest, overcoat and a cape and top hat. The skull-headed cane was once again in his white hands, gloved with immaculate wrinkles. He collars around his wrists were stiff and impeccable...not one trace of dust or grim lingered on his frame.

His eyes bore into my with such spiting anger that I was too afraid to stare at them directly. I twiddled my fingers nervously, knowing the impending doom I was about to endure. I was about to recieve punishment: great punishment, as not only did I disobey direct orders, but I had also remained unfaithful. I shivered in fear and unconciously backed up against the door.

As predicted, his hand swung in the air and was about to crack across my cheek when I screamed and ducked. My whole body quaked with uneasiness and weakly, I peaked out from my closed eyelids and saw that his hand was just a mere inch away from my cheek. A snarl slowly crept across his face and he continued his slap, except because he had stopped at such close proximity, it did not hurt as much as it should have.

"Fool," he snarled at me. "Didn't I tell you not to show weakness?"

I slowly brought a hand to my stinging cheek, and nodded weakly. "I am sorry, my Angel,"I whispered obediently. My Angel snorted and walked away from me, tapping his cane lightly on the glass display case that held the tomb of the Sennen Items.

"Apparently not sorry enough," my Angel hissed, suddenly turning to look at me. "You lied to me. You blatantly lied to me and you decieved me!"

I felt his words swiftly stab at my heart like a poisoned knife, slitting all my strings of self-perserverance and confidence. It hurt , however, so much worse to know that everything he said was true.

I fell to my knees and began to cry, clasping my hands in prayer. "No, Angel, I am sorry!" I begged. "Please, I am sorry! I will never do that again! I will never be unfaithful again!"

"Do NOT LIE TO ME!" he bellowed at me. He quickly grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me upright once more, staring at me with such fiery anger that I strongly wished to curl up into a ball and hide. He shoved me away from him, but continued to glare at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly in near, uncontrollable rage.

I whimpered and raised my hands again, afraid of a beating. "Please, Angel!" I cried. "Please don't hurt me!"

My Angel snorted at me in disgust, and wrenched my arms away from my face. "Why?" he demanded of me. "WHY did you do this to me? WHY did you leave me and DIRECTLY DISOBEY MY ORDERS?Have you no discipline? No WILL whatsoever!"

My throat hitched, caught tightly between crying and blubbering. My wrists shivered fearfully in his grip, but I knew he wanted an answer. And very quickly too.

"I did wait!" I cried out truthfully. "I did! I...I just...I've always loved Marik!" I blurted. "I always have! But I...I loved you more!"

"YOU LIE," he spat at me, and shook me violently. "Don't you DARE lie to me, or you will find yourself a widow six months after!"

I burst into tears and began to cry, very hard. I was so afraid...so very afraid of his violent anger and his horrible temper. I knew I deserved punishment and that I had been a terrible person to accept Marik's proposal so quickly. I quickly fell to my knees, not just for mercy, but also because my body could no longer handle the stress and the sleepless nights I had spent debating myself over the same thing.

"I did," I whispered brokenly. "I waited...I told him I loved him, only because I was afraid..."

"Afraid," my Angel echoed. "Afraid. Afraid of WHAT?"

I stiffened and tried to curl at his feet and knees, tears dripping helplessly down my cheeks. "...Angel...Angel please, you..."

"I frighten you?" he answered for me. "Is that it, Little Ryou? Do I frighten you?"

I weakly nodded my head, but clutched at his pants for mercy. "Yes...but only because I don't know you," I whispered. "Please, Angel...please, don't speak of death so easily that way...about dark things...dark things that I...I..." I closed my eyes. "That I'm afraid to hear..."

I heard him snort again and snap, but his hands slowly slid from their grip on my shoulders, and hung limp by his side. I hugged his legs to me, my body so weak and shaking; I had to hold on for some sort of stability.

"You...you frighten me when you do things like that," I whispered heart-brokenly. "When you...won't tell me what happened...what happened in that strange room...when you...seem to like me one moment but then you seem to hate me the next...or when...when you killed that...that boy..." I closed my eyes and sobbed into his knees. "Why did you kill that boy?"

He didn't say anything, but I knew. That boy...he had been the sacrifice needed.

I sobbed again and clutched the fabric weakly in my grasp. "You frighten me...Angel..." I whispered. "I...I don't know anything about you...and you won't open up to me..."

"Is that why you went to that pathetic Ishtal boy?" my Angel snapped at me. "Just simply because you were too afraid to tell me how you felt?"

I shook fearfully and nodded my head, crying against the soft texture of his pants.

"I...I was afraid...you were killing people," I whispered. "I didn't know what to think...I was afraid...that maybe you'd kill me too...or Marik..." I clutched him closer to me and sank to the ground, my forehead on his feet. "He's my best friend," I whispered. "I love him dearly...if I hadn't met you, I would've married him...I had to...tell him...I was so afraid...I didn't know what was going on..."

I heard him sigh, but it was a harsh one. I tearfully looked up at him.

"Please forgive me, Angel," I begged. "Please...you...you left me...and I thought...I thought you were really gone..."

My Angel looked back down at me and turned away, his white hair flicking over his shoulder. "Your lack of discipline disgusts me," he said, although his voice had now lost a lot of its initial anger. "The moment I'm gone, you think I will never return?"

I quivered again and shook my head, hugging his ankles now. "I...I ...it killed me when you were gone," I breathed fearfully. "I could never live without you...Angel...I'd...I'd go insane...but...after you left..." I looked away. Everything I was telling him...it was all true. My heart...for once, it felt so much more relieved, like as if I no longer had to hide it from him. After all, what else could he do? Kill me... and that's it... "...After you left...when I was afraid and I was sad...Marik was there...he helped me through it. But there was never a day I stopped praying for you, hoping one day you'd come back." I lowered my head. "Please don't kill Marik, Angel," I whispered pleadingly. "This is my fault, all my fault...I gave into temptation and it's my fault, not Marik's. Punish me instead, please..."

There was a silence between us. I nervously held his ankles in my arms, resting my head on his shoes. Finally, after what seemed like eons, my Angel slowly bent down towards me. His hand gently slithered underneath my chin, and forced me to look up. I raised my eyes, tear-stained and leaking pathetically over my face. His clear red ones looked back down at me from his half mask. I slowly raised my hand and gently touched his bare cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Angel..." I whispered. "I should've never...never taken off your mask..."

My Angel closed his eyes, and his hand slowly came to cup mine. His face still held a pained expression, but the terrible fury I first saw was slowly ebbing away, despite his apparently strong hold to keep it installed in his heart. He opened his eyes at me, and glared at me in such a warningly way I had to stop caressing his cheek, for fear I was upsetting him.

"If you haven't, you would've been living in an illusion," he said simply. He shoved my hand away from his face, except it was not harsh, not meant to be very mean. "Therefore, stop calling me Angel..." he said to me. "...I was your Angel. But no more. Just call me Bakura."

I shook my head, more tears trickling down my cheeks. I slipped my hand away and returned to hugging his ankles.

"No," I whispered. "You...you were my Angel and you still are. I will...still remain faithful...no matter what. Just please..." I clutched his ankles again. "Please stop frightening me."

I heard my Angel sigh, and he shook his head.

"I'm afraid that cannot be done," he said somberly. "Hush now, little one..." He slipped his hand under my chin and made me look at him again. "Do not cry anymore. I am still angry, but I have forgotten how little it takes to frighten you." He slowly caressed my wet cheek and brushed away my tears. "...As for your wedding?" he said suddenly, his voice abruptly very hard.

I swallowed hard and mournfully looked back down on the floor.

"I cancelled it," I whispered.

Angel nodded, and resumed stroking my cheeks. "Good Little Ryou," he cooed at me. "That's a very good first step. But I cannot let this disappointment go away so easily. There are many illusions that I can create, but this unfortunately..." My Angel stood, and suddenly he resumed that hard, stern posture that he had had when he first taught me how to defend myself. "Stand up, Ryou," he commanded me.

I quickly stumbled to my feet, knowing that I had to accept my deserved punishment. I felt no regret; merely fear as to what it would be, and guilt that I had done so many things to upset my Angel.

"Will this be...a new slate?" I asked weakly. "I...I'll remain faithful to you ...once more...I ...I'm only afraid because you frighten me so much..."

I heard him sigh and he turned away from me.

"As for frightening you, I'm afraid that there is nothing that can be done," he said grimly. "I've always been a rather frightening person." He turned back and looked at me briefly. "But I am ...I was the King of Thieves," he said quietly. "And you were not afraid of him. Why?"

I shivered and slowed down my steps, looking down back onto the floor. "He...he was misunderstood," I said weakly. "No one...no one deserved what he went through..."

I heard my Angel sigh again, and he tiredly looked away from me. "If you know the story, then there should be nothing of me that you should be afraid of," he said. "There would be nothing I should have to tell you."

He turned and looked at me again, and took the Ring from his neck. "Here," he said. "Touch it."

I looked at it hesitantly, unsure if this was my punishment. He thrust it again at me. "Touch it," he said again, much more harshly. "We will return to our soulroom, and there I shall deliver your punishment, do you understand?"

I nodded weakly. Closing my eyes, I hesitantly reached out my fingers, and brushed the Ring.

* * *

Bakura POV 

I knew he was lying to me. Well...I was at least certain some part of him was lying. Whether it be his love for me or his faith, I was not sure. I was leaning very confidentally towards his faith.

He was young, he was a hopeless little child, a fragile little porcelain doll that needed caring. All his life, he had grown in a sheltered world, protected with that wonderful angel of a father, who kept him, nourished him, never even spoke to him about pain or sadness, especially never related to the other wonderfully kind but deceased family members. I faintly realized that Marik could never truly love Ryou to his full potential; Ryou was like a glass doll, delicate and fragile. Although he was strong at heart, too much overwhelmed the poor child. He who loved Ryou would also have to play not only the lover, but the friend, the brother, and the father.

Was I truly too twisted to uphold all of that? Surely not. He loved the King of Thieves, did he not? Surely with enough time, he would come to love me too...

I had to remind myself that he was very confused in all of this; whoever his heart may belong to, it was now torn between the two monsters that fought so hard for it. I wasn't sure who was the worse monster: I, for punishing him when it was Marik that deserved death, or Marik, who was too blind to see that perhaps there was a wondrous chance for Ryou to have a chance with me?

Surely I. I, who dared to shut him away in that room for his punishment, cold, alone, and fearful that once again abadon him. I, who could not control my emotions of hatred and betrayal and bitter resentment to the memories that were replaying themselves once more. I, who dared to sit down at my organ and rape his beautiful body with my music, my organ, my lust and my want for him as he laid on that recliner, moaning helplessly and his screams pitching needily.

I wanted him! I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything else! I wanted that body to be mine, for my hand to be free to roam his skin, as we had the first night he met myface. I wanted that heart to be mine, that smile to look up at me...I wanted that soul, that precious soul to belong to me, to not be afraid of me...

I had already tried kindness, I had tried taking care of him, worshipping him beyond any other pedestal I had ever dared glanced on. And yet, something still went wrong, and my collasping mind could only think of one more way to make him mine: punishing him, instilling that Angel force and fear that he once took as divine justice. I cursed myself and hated myself for doing so, for hurting my precious Angel and making him cry...yes, making him sob softly in that cold room. After my agonized feat of music, I slumped onto my keyboard, utterly exhausted, and broke into silent tears.

Ryou, oh my Ryou...the gods are so merciless to do this to us...

I was sorry, truly sorry for having to punish him so terribly. I could not go back into that room too quickly. I had to regain myself, to stop my feverous tears and the memories that began to chaoticly swirl in my dark and dank and terrifying soul room.

I had to hear him stop crying first, before I could.

* * *

Ryou POV 

I was afraid. Very afraid. He had left me in a room, cold, lonely, and he had taken away my sweater, leaving me with only my under shirt and my jeans. I nervously sat myself onto the couch, wondering how terrible my punishment truly would be, when I heard the organ beginning to play.

It was such ...terrifyingly strong music. It seemed to possesss my ears and made me crave for their notes like a ravenous drug addict, needing more, more and more. I whimpered in confusion when my hands seemed to have a mind of their own, beginning to roam around my body on their own accord. The music began to grow louder, and my chests, throat, and groin were growing warmer and warmer. Crying weakly, I curled up into a ball to stop these feelings, but it did not help.

My nipples began to peak behind my shirt, and my fingers managed to relieve my chest of the material. The music coaxed me, massaged my sides and drove me insane with passion. My head grew dizzy, and my body grew very warm, warmest of all areas were my groin and my quickly awakening arousal. I pressed my knees together to stop it, but it did not help.

As the music began to climb higher into a mighty crescendo, I found myself spreading my legs against my will, kicking away my jeans and finally leaving myself bare in the room. A flush of shame surged to my cheeks as my fingers found themselves against my nipples and began to tweak them hesitantly. When the music began to emphasize a bite of a note, my fingers would stay in tune with it, and against my own will, they twisted my nipples brutally with the music, and I could not stop myself from crying out in forced pleasure.

I began to sweat and cry at the same time, so shaken by the way my body was reacting so harshly to the music. My knees quivered, and my how body was beginning to shake in the coldness of the room. I tossed from side to side on the recliner to ease my distress, but it only served to add spike to the hot area between my legs. I grabbed my knees and held them there, crying uncontrollably, but the music dipped down again and swept back out, forcing my hands to slither from my knees and to spread my thighs. There, the fingers began to slither up my inner thighs, before resting at the core of this whole terrible mess.

I sobbed as I began to do something so shamefulI had to curl up into a ball to not think of it. The music grew very loud, now attacking and receding, attacking and receding, forcing me to buck my hips into my tunneled hands and force my way through. I tried to keep my hands away,I tried to ride the air, but my Angel had been right. I had no self control while he was at that organ...with his music, he possessed me, in every way. I was his, no matter what.

I sobbed again and shook my head, my cheeks so red and my nipples pink. The music reached an almighty explosion of lust, and screaming to the skies, I released myself of my terrible burden, riding the rest of the downhill crescendo, until the music slowly began to fade away. My hips weakly fell back to the recliner, and I fell, exhausted, onto my back. Shivering and whimpering, regaining my senses and my motor control, I slowly turned to my side, and curled up into a ball.

The music faded, and all I could hear was my wretched crying.

I forgot how long it was before I heard my Angel slowly slip into my room. By then, I was too exhausted, shivering weakly and still crying. I felt him slowly sink onto the recliner, and silently, he slowly took off his cape and draped it across my naked body. I sobbed again and buried myself under it. I was afraid...still so very afraid...the immense power that he held over my body and how I controlled it...I was so afraid!

He didn't touch me, not in any comforting way, but he did brush my tears away. He said nothing as I turned to him to dry my tears. I cried, cried and cried, shaking my head and pleading that I would never have to go through that again. He hushed me softly, and gently placed my head on his lap. Iwept myself to sleep, wrapped in his cloak.

Sometime in the night, however, I woke up. I dare not move, but I realized something. My Angel...my tender Angel...my strict yet tender Angel...my scary yet loving Angel...His head, it was resting on mine, and his hand, gloveless now, was stroking my hair with such regretful air that I felt his sorrow in my own heart.

I dared not return to sleep after that. I wanted to cherish the tender moments with my Angel. Even if it meant I needed to share some tears too.

Cause when I woke up, I had found the Phantom of the Sennen Ring...his head on top of mine, and his arms rocking me so tenderly...I found him crying as he held me, and whispering apologies that he didn't have to make.

* * *

This scene was mostly to just...rebridge that gap that Ryou loved Bakura. This scene was also based on that one part in Phantom when Christine was wearing a wedding dress and Phantom wanted to rape her, but instead, told her to lock and bolt her room door, and he raped her with music, as he said. Plus, for those who weren't expecting the sudden Malik/Bakura-ness, this chapter was to re-establish Bakura and Ryou's love.

Ryou's love may still look a bit skeptical at this point, but you guys have to realize that he's very confused right now. Marik is his childhood lover, but he doesn't love him as much as he loves Bakura. He loves Bakura far more, as a soul mate, but Bakura and his temper scares Ryou, and Ryou doesn't know if he can trust Bakura. Simply because Marik seemed more stable (ahahahahhaahha) Ryou chose to marry Marik...that and Bakura wasn't there at the time, Ryou never thought he was going to get that proposal. But now that Bakura is back, Ryou thinks it's better to call off the engagement...maybe learn a bit more about Bakura and hopefully, maybe he, Bakura and Marik can all eventually coome to some nice happy conclusion.

Hahahahahhha, as if, Ryou. Dream on, dearie, dream on.

**Please read and review!**


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